The Internet Police: Year in Review
by TheInventor
Summary: The second installment in the Internet Police series takes our agents through the course of a single year. In the aftermath of the Great Schism, the Angry Video Game Nerd, HurricaneAubrey, and their allies must continue their trek through the brave new world of the internet, preparing for the unpredictable from the false calmness of spring to the changing winds of winter.
1. Resolutions Part 1

**I do not own any of the internet personalities or memes presented in this story.**

The Internet Police: Year in Review

Resolutions, Part 1

New Year's Eve marks the beginning of a new year. It is a celebration that involves fireworks, cocktails, various noisemakers, and confetti. At the stroke of midnight, the dawn of a new year would begin. The importance of New Year's Eve would be elevated if the transition between old and new happened between decades or centuries, with a new era unfolding by midnight. There were various places to celebrate the transition of time, from New York City's Times Square to London's Clock Tower. But nowhere else was the passage of time celebrated more appropriately than the city of Vienna. As the capital of Austria, Vienna was a city familiar with the ravages of changing times as it was the governing city of the Holy Roman Empire, the center of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the epicenter of classical music, and the birthplace of psychoanalysis and the waltz. As a new year was approaching in Vienna, the Viennese knew that their beloved city has been through several years that tested its very existence, from Napoleon's occupation of Vienna in 1805 to the end of the Austro-Hungarian Empire in 1918. Through all these difficult years, Vienna managed to survive and even thrive. So the Viennese were confident that the upcoming year would pose no substantial problems for them, with the city anticipating the New Year with classical and modern music. However, there was a threat to Vienna's survival that might be greater than that of Napoleon and the Allies of World War I: social justice warriors. And the only thing standing between these social justice warriors and Vienna was the Internet Police, an organization dedicated to neutralizing threats originating from the internet. And within the Hofburg Palace, a New Year's Eve ball and a plot to destroy Vienna's legacy was underway. It would be up to three Internet Police agents to stop these social justice warriors from ruining Vienna. They were called the Nostalgia Critic, the Angry Video Game Nerd, and HurricaneAubrey.

"So from what we gathered, these social justice warriors are led by a woman by the name of College Liberal," said the Critic dressed in a tuxedo as he danced with HurricaneAubrey.

"I thought College Liberal was a man," said HurricaneAubrey dressed in an evening dress. "Is it offensive for me to call College Liberal an it?"

"No. And it shouldn't matter because College Liberal is definitely a woman, and right now, she has her army of social justice warriors called the Weathervanes stationed throughout Vienna to make sure that nobody interferes with the bombing of an iconic Viennese landmark," answered the Critic as he led HurricaneAubrey across the ballroom floor.

"The only question is which one. There are dozens of Viennese sites that could hold a bomb, and from what I gathered, the bomb will fire several words into the air heralding College Liberal's message that Vienna is a political incorrect city and deserves to be destroyed. Just imagine the propaganda victory that would ensure if College Liberal managed to obliterate a Vienna landmark in such a spectacular fashion," said HurricaneAubrey as she glided with the Critic along the ballroom floor.

To the tune of Johann Strauss' On the Beautiful Blue Danube, HurricaneAubrey and the Critic searched the ballroom for anyone who could be a Weathervane member.

"Where is the Nerd right now?" asked HurricaneAubrey to the Critic.

The Critic quickly pressed his hand into his earpiece.

"Where are you now, Nerd?" questioned the Critic.

"I'm on the subway heading to the Schönbrunn Palace, and right now, the Viennese are heralding the New Year by what they do best: singing, dancing, and drinking," said the Nerd. "I'm taking public transportation because the streets and roads are crowded as fuck with party revelers."

"Please hurry. We only have thirty minutes till midnight when the bomb goes off," said the Critic. "At the stroke of midnight, the Weathervanes will bring forth a new era of PC madness if we fail our mission."

"Got it," said the Nerd.

As Vienna continued its waltz towards midnight, the Critic and HurricaneAubrey were desperately searching for a Weathervane amongst the men dancing with their female companion.

"Are you sure a Weathervane is here at the Hofburg Palace?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"I'm sure of it. We're not looking hard enough," said the Critic. "Look for any distinctive markings or body language that would give a Weathervane away."

For many, ballroom dancing was nerve-racking as it involves maintaining constant movement and precise motions, and when one pair was concerned with foiling a plot to detonate a bomb in Vienna, the act of dancing would become unbearable. It was miracle that HurricaneAubrey and the Critic kept their composure as they scanned for their suspect within the ballroom.

"All of the dancers have the same tuxedos and gowns as the Critic and I respectively. And the faces have the same smiles and state of confidence," thought HurricaneAubrey. "And we're running out of time."

"Any ideas?" asked the Critic.

Throughout the internet, it is customary to list your life story to the world no matter how personal it would be, whether the website you were dictating your memoirs would be on a social media website, a vlog webpage, or an instant messaging site. If one were to learn about the relationship between the Critic and HurricaneAubrey online (though the two of them were smart enough to not post such information publicly), it would be best described as close after a rough start. Their close relationship was forged over the tribulations and turmoil of their early lives before and during their time as Internet Police agents. For the Critic, he had a rough childhood being the rebellious son of a military father who disapproved of his son's love of filmmaking and nerdy hobbies, and after wandering the uncharted world of the internet since his father disowned him, he eventually became an Internet Police agent as an apprentice of the Angry Video Game Nerd. Through further struggles and hardships, he soon rose to the ranks of being one of the best Internet Police agents in its entire history. Whether it was by fate or pure circumstance, HurricaneAubrey would cross paths with the Critic and become his personal apprentice. Even though she had a much easier childhood than the Critic, her adult life was less successful. While the Critic was extremely famous for being one of the forefathers of internet criticism and reviewing, HurricaneAubrey only claim to fame was posting a video entitled 51 Things I Found Around My House. After struggling through several temporary and meaningless jobs, HurricaneAubrey made it as an Internet Police agent to the reluctance of the Critic and to a smaller extent the Nerd. In typical fashion, it was the Critic who mostly dismissed HurricaneAubrey as a little girl naïve about the state of the world and who consumed her own generation's vapid popular culture while HurricaneAubrey insisted that she was ready with what real life had in store for her. They were both partially correct. The Critic underestimated HurricaneAubrey's vast knowledge of art and culture as well as her interest in the same popular media as the Critic. On the other hand, HurricaneAubrey severely failed to grasp how brutal and cruel the real world was, and that the internet was a reflection of reality in the form of hate speech and falsehoods. No more was this harsh reality more apparent than in the Great Schism of America where the initial distrust and enmity between the Critic and HurricaneAubrey took place on a massive scale between several generational congregations, with self-proclaimed Emperor of the Internet George Zazz being the catalyst behind the carnage. Happily, the Critic and HurricaneAubrey overcame their generational angst and put an end to the Great Schism with the Nerd's help, and despite or maybe because of the Great Schism, the Critic and HurricaneAubrey now respected each other as fellow Internet Police agents. Thus, the Critic was more open to HurricaneAubrey's decisions and judgments, such as asking her how to find some Weathervane members before the stroke of midnight. But still, she gave him a crazy idea.

"I'll tempt fate in my favor," spoke HurricaneAubrey.

"What?" questioned the Critic looking puzzled.

"It will take a miracle to find the Weathervane member," said HurricaneAubrey.

Right on cue, a miracle happened as HurricaneAubrey accidentally danced away from the Critic and found herself dancing with another woman. Even stranger, HurricaneAubrey recognized this woman as her little sister Allison.

"Hi big sis. Long time no see," said Allison looking elegant in her evening gown.

"Hello," said HurricaneAubrey simply with tears of joy.

HurricaneAubrey randomly meeting Allison again after her little sister's self-exile after the Great Schism was a miracle in of itself. But the real miracle came when a loud, inelegant outburst came from one of the dancers.

"Oh yeah! We need more girl on girl action in this city of old, white men," said a man putting on his hipster glasses to get a better view of HurricaneAubrey and Allison holding hands. "You go girls! We need to rid Vienna of the misogynistic, racist culture that I'm obvious not a part of."

The entire ballroom stared at the hipster man who declared Vienna to be a backwards cesspool. Realizing that he had blown his cover, the Weathervane man ran from the ballroom.

"After him!" shouted the Critic to HurricaneAubrey.

The two Internet Police agents chased the Weathervane man through the exquisite halls of the Hofburg Palace. They eventually cornered him at the seating of the Hofburg's Winter Riding School, where the Lipizzan horses of the Spanish Riding School performed. In desperation, the Weathervane man leaped down to the stage where the Lipizzan horses were being tended by their handlers. He pushed one of the handlers out of the way.

"I'm stealing your horse to destroy this city. For my name is Bruno, and I want to eradicate Vienna from the face of the earth," said the Weathervane hipster as he climbed onto a Lipizzan horse and galloped out onto the streets of Vienna.

"We're here to save your city!" shouted HurricaneAubrey as she leapt onto a horse.

"And we need to borrow your horse," said the Critic as he climbed onto the same horse.

With little time left before the bomb went off, HurricaneAubrey, with the Critic behind her, rode the horse after Bruno. In the streets of Vienna, the partying Viennese youth and elders saw two horses go past them.

"Why do you want to blow up Vienna?!" yelled HurricaneAubrey.

"Because fuck Vienna and all of its sexist citizens!" shouted Bruno to the crowd.

In his foolishness, Bruno saw that the partygoers were looking at him with rage.

"What's wrong with Vienna!" shouted the Critic to the cheers of the Austrians.

With Bruno showing his ugly feelings towards the locals, it became much harder for him to avoid being pulled from his horse by an angry mob.

"You sexist pigs!" shouted Bruno. "You want to worship woman-haters like Beethoven and Mozart."

"Why do you assume both men were sexist?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"Because their music is sexist," answered Bruno.

"Why?" questioned HurricaneAubrey.

"Because they lived in a time that repressed women," said Bruno.

"Any proof that they themselves were chauvinistic pigs?" asked HurricaneAubrey as she continued chasing Bruno on horseback.

Bruno didn't anticipate being challenged to an intelligent debate involving sexism, especially while riding on horseback. Not having done much intellectual planning, Bruno blurted out whatever would allow him to win.

"The crescendos from Beethoven and Mozart's music represent a man taking advantage of a woman and the decrescendos is evocative of a man feeling satisfied with what he done to the woman," said Bruno.

"That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard," commented the Critic. "And that's after I was told that vaccines allegedly caused autism. Let's get him HurricaneAubrey."

HurricaneAubrey wasn't going to let Bruno's mudslinging go unnoticed, and with much pleasure, she propelled her horse forward, and with one giant leap from her horse, she tackled Bruno onto the ground.

"Now where is the bomb?!" shouted HurricaneAubrey.

Bruno took out a knife with a black handle and tried slashing at HurricaneAubrey. Fortunately, HurricaneAubrey was quick enough to dodge it.

"Stay back," said Bruno brandishing his knife to HurricaneAubrey and her Austrian allies. "I will kill all of you, and there is nothing you can do to stop me."

HurricaneAubrey look to the Critic for assistance. The Critic gave her a wink and marched confidently forward towards Bruno.

"You racist prick," said the Critic.

"I'm racist?! How can I be when I'm blowing up an Austrian landmark built by the white oppressors?!" yelled Bruno.

"Because your knife has a black handle on it. You're implying that Africans are naturally prone to violence, and since you want to kill all of us with a knife with a black handle, you are saying that Africans are only good at murdering," said the Critic. "So do you want to label Africans as murderous thugs by the color of your weapon? Why not use your Caucasian fists to do the job?"

Bruno saw the weapon he was holding, and convinced by the Critic's argument, he promptly dropped the knife and started to attack the two Internet Police agents and their Austrian friends with his white hands. He was easily defeated and forced onto the ground.

"Now tell us where the bomb is?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"Alright I'll tell you. It's at St. Stephen's Cathedral," answered Bruno as he was being held to the ground by the Austrian crowd.

"Of course. Right in the heart of Vienna. The bull's-eye for the Weathervanes' agenda," stated the Critic as he tapped his earpiece. "Nerd. The bomb is at St. Stephen's Cathedral."

"How much time do we have left?" asked the Nerd.

The Critic looked to the many television screens displaying the countdown to midnight. HurricaneAubrey saw that it was 11:45 p.m.

"We have fifteen minutes left," responded the Critic.

"I think I can make it with a few minutes to spare," said the Nerd. "Can you make it?"

"Yes," said the Critic as he turned to face HurricaneAubrey. "Let's get going HurricaneAubrey."

HurricaneAubrey was about to get onto the horse, only to realize that the horses had fled, probably to escape the confrontation between Bruno and the two Internet Police agents.

"We're running to St. Stephen's Cathedral," said HurricaneAubrey to the Critic. She then turned to the Viennese holding down Bruno. "Keep him down until we get back."

With little time to spare, the two Internet Police agents ran towards St. Stephen's Cathedral. Unfortunately, their pursuit of Bruno on horseback had placed quite a distance between them and the cathedral. After running for what seemed like an eternity, the Critic and HurricaneAubrey stopped to catch their breaths.

"We're not going to make it. No matter how fast we run," said the Critic.

"We have St. Stephen's Cathedral within our sights," said HurricaneAubrey as she was panting heavily. "Ask the Nerd how far is he."

The Critic called the Nerd through his earpiece as he saw that there was two minutes left till midnight as displayed on large television screens.

"Nerd. Are you close to St. Stephen's Cathedral?" asked the Critic.

"I'm literally disarming the white-colored bomb right now," said the Nerd. "I think I'm cutting the right wires."

"Good," said the Critic as he heard static in his earpiece. "Just remember to cut the white wires."

"What was that?" asked the Nerd.

"Don't cut any of the colored wires," shouted the Critic.

"What?!" yelled the Nerd. "I'm losing you."

"Cut the white wires and leave the colored wires alone!" shouted the Critic as his earpiece was failing. "Hello? Hello?"

The Critic tried in vain to regain the connection with the Nerd. HurricaneAubrey watched as thirty seconds was left until midnight. Off in the distance, they saw the majesty of St. Stephen's Cathedral, and they didn't want to think about it being blown to pieces, with the Nerd suffering the same fate. But that nightmare would become a reality as midnight approached.

"Zehn, neun, acht, sieben, sechs, fünf, vier, drei, zwei, eins, null!" shouted the Viennese population counting down to the New Year.

HurricaneAubrey and the Critic closed their eyes and fell to the ground hoping for the best. Using their ears as reference, they heard several loud explosions. The Critic and HurricaneAubrey held each other's hand as they got up. The Critic opened his eyes expecting to see St. Stephen's Cathedral reduced to rubble and fireworks proclaiming the glory of the Weathervanes looming over the ashes.

"What do you see?" asked HurricaneAubrey in fear.

"I see fireworks spelling out several words," responded the Critic.

HurricaneAubrey was about to cry when the Critic clarified his initial statement.

"They say 'Have a Happy New Year, Vienna,'" announced the Critic, with his ability to translate German deriving from his German heritage and being a child to a military father.

HurricaneAubrey opened her eyes and saw fireworks over the fully intact St. Stephen's Cathedral.

"Do you copy Critic? I have successfully disarmed the bomb," said the Nerd with joy.

"How did you do it?" asked the Critic cheerfully. "I didn't think you picked up my advice."

"Using my common sense, something these Weathervanes lack," replied the Nerd. "I think I'll dispose this bomb and wish you, HurricaneAubrey, and all of Vienna a Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year Nerd," said the Critic.

The Critic turned to HurricaneAubrey and promptly hugged her.

"Happy New Year HurricaneAubrey," said the Critic as fireworks and music heralded the New Year.

"Happy New Year Nostalgia Critic," responded HurricaneAubrey as celebrating Austrians ran around them.

At the Café Sacher in the days after New Year's Eve, the three Internet Police agents and Allison were enjoying coffee and slices of Sachertorte, a chocolate cake with an apricot filling. Within this restaurant recalling the bygone days of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Allison was recalling her pilgrimage through the Alps to the three Internet Police agents.

"During my travels, I saw picturesque villages of people living simply off the land as they have for centuries. The people were friendly and humble when I asked them if I could stay with them for free provided I perform some labor for them," said Allison. "After a couple of days of doing work like selling farm merchandise and being a waitress in the local restaurants, I told these local Alpine residents that I was an American seeking refuge and enlightenment in these mountains."

"And how did these locals react when you told them you were an American?" asked HurricaneAubrey as she placed a slice of Sachertorte into her mouth with a fork. "Did they react with hostility that you were forced to move elsewhere?"

"Don't be so negative, big sis. More often than not, they welcomed me with open arms regardless of my nationality, and treated me as a member of their family," said Allison.

"It must be hard to keep moving when you grown attached to these households in the Alps," said the Critic as he drank a cup of coffee.

"I know. But I needed to find out more about why the Great Schism happened in America, and the best way to do it is to research here where western civilization thrived," said Allison.

"And what did you find out exactly from your weeks of trekking through the Alps?" asked the Nerd.

"I found out that Europeans are just like us. Americans and Europeans share the same fears and anxieties. For example, I was staying with a family whose parents were traditionalist wanting to live a simple life on the farm. On the other hand, their children sought a fast-paced life in the modern cities, and as a result, I had to endure countless arguments between the parents and children at the dinner table. Compounded by a difference in musical tastes, I realized that there was a generational gap happening at this residence, a microcosm of a greater conflict within today's nation-states," replied Allison.

Allison was nervously slicing her Sachertorte into tiny pieces as the three Internet Police agents looked on with concern. They all knew how traumatized Allison was by her experience on Utopia Island, and it was because of generational disputes in America that led to her imprisonment on the island.

"So are you planning to return to America and reunite with your big sister in Boston?" asked HurricaneAubrey hopefully.

"No. I intend of making my presence known in the cities," said Allison with a sad smile. "For the past few months, I have gained familiarity with the wooden buildings, the breathtaking mountains, and the natural beauty of the Alps. I could see why 19th century Romantics found inspiration in the Alps' vistas. However, I now believe the time is right for me to venture back into the cities and return to the world of the internet. Just not back in America."

HurricaneAubrey gave a look of disappointment as she wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"And do you remember what I said to you back in Chicago about being a part of the internet?" questioned the Critic.

"Someone is bound to hate you on the internet," answered Allison.

"Exactly," said the Critic. "And what cities are you planning to travel to?"

"Well I'm in Vienna right now, so I'm off to a good start. From there, I expect to travel to cities like Milan, Venice, and Salzburg. I know these cities are outside the Alps, but they are close enough for me to find out more about myself and the world at large," said Allison. And I will be posting my travels on the internet for the world to see, fully aware that I will get a lot of criticism for my research against George Zazz."

"I think your examination of European cities is a brilliant idea," said the Nerd. "I take it you're not intimidated by the sites where classical music and art flourished considering how George Zazz condemned you for not appreciating them enough."

"I'm not afraid. I just need to find out why the classics led to the Great Schism of America," said Allison. "I still occasionally practice my violin when I'm called to be the backup music for the yodelers and accordions at the Alpine towns."

"I'm glad you're still in love with the classics despite all that had happened to you unlike some people," said HurricaneAubrey with relief.

"What people?" asked Allison.

The Nerd and the Critic gave HurricaneAubrey a warning look. HurricaneAubrey was obviously referring to her apprentice who had no artistic merits and was an absolute rebel. Afraid that she might inadvertently reveal the Internet Police's existence to her sister, the Critic decided to intervene.

"How about we spend some time together in Vienna's museums like the Kunsthistorisches Museum before the three of us return to Boston?" suggested the Critic.

HurricaneAubrey smiled at this thought, and soon, the four of them began discussing the various museums they wanted to visit.

"We should visit the Haus der Musik considering my musical talents. Just recently, I began practicing Antonio Vivaldi's The Four Seasons starting with Winter. All three of you should see me perform it on my violin at my hotel room," said Allison.

Vienna has been nicknamed the City of Music and Dreams. But it could also be called the City of Spies. Ever since the Cold War, the city has been the silent battleground between spies from rival nations, the most notable between American and Soviet spies. Though the espionage environment had quieted down with the end of the Cold War, there were still spies within its boundaries seeking information about their enemies. Of course, even the best spies miss crucial insight regarding their missions, and in the case of a middle-aged man and his younger female companion who were both American expatriates, they missed the fact that their four worst enemies were eating at the same restaurant that they were currently occupying. As the Critic, the Nerd, HurricaneAubrey, and Allison were enjoying their meals while discussing their Viennese itinerary, the older man and younger woman were lamenting the downfall of western civilization as they drank coffee a few tables away.

"Why have a civilization if we're no longer interested in being civilized?" said the older man.

"I know. And it is especially the Americans who are no longer interested in being civilized. What happened to the days when Americans went to European cities and were admired by Europeans for their ingenuity and civility? I remember how Americans like Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson were welcomed by Europeans with open arms," said the younger woman.

"I can recall how the Americans saved the British and French from being slaughtered in the trenches by the Central Powers during World War I," said the older man with a sad smile.

"What about when Europeans were accepting of good old American jazz and the classical movies of the Golden Age of Hollywood?" said the younger woman. "Unlike the cinematic and musical crap we have today."

"Do you remember how the Parisians cheered for the American soldiers when they liberated their city from the Nazis in 1944?" said the older man with a tinge of sorrow.

The older man and younger woman sipped coffee as they organized their thoughts on the perception of Americans today.

"Nowadays, we have drunk Americans puking in the streets of Europe. When they see works of art like Michelangelo's David, they just pose suggestively in front of it. Don't these fucking Yanks have any sense of decency nowadays," commented the younger woman.

"And don't get me started on how these dumbasses in their Hawaiian shirts harass Europeans for not speaking English and for having stuffy museums instead of their so-called entertainment of trashy internet reviews and vlogs," said the older man.

"We could have stopped all of this if it wasn't for those three individuals who ruined everything for everyone," lamented the younger woman as she was cutting fiercely into her Sachertorte with a knife and fork. "If I ever find the Nostalgia Critic, the Angry Video Game Nerd, and HurricaneAubrey, I swear that I will slit their throats and hang their bodies from the Eiffel Tower as a peace offering to our European brothers and sisters."

The older man saw that his female friend wasn't so much slicing her Sachertorte than hacking away from it. By the time she was done, the Sachertorte was pretty much atomized.

"You're absolutely right. The Critic, HurricaneAubrey, and the Nerd stopped the coming of the Third Rome," said the older man.

"The Third Rome?" asked the bewildered younger woman.

"The Third Rome that was the United States of America," said the older man.

"Care to elaborate what you mean?" questioned the younger woman.

"Gladly. You see. We all know about the original Roman civilization established by Romulus and Remus on the seven hills, and how the Romans were the inheritors of the enlightened philosophies of the ancient Greeks, the founders of western civilization. It would seem redundant to ask you about what the Romans contributed to our world considering you're not as brain-dead as many people of your generation," said the older man.

"Oh the Romans didn't give us anything useful. Besides the calendar, the Latin alphabet, highways, and architectural styles and designs that lasted the test of time," said the younger woman with a smile.

The older man chuckled as he continued describing the First Rome.

"The Roman Empire was a marvel to behold. But sadly, Rome fell because of its citizens no longer being interested in being civilized, and as a result, the barbarians came and destroyed the center of western civilization. That was when the First Rome ended and the Second Rome began in the form of the Byzantine Empire ruled from the city of Constantinople," said the older man.

The younger woman sighed passionately at the older man as he explained the rise of the Second Rome.

"The height of the Second Rome was undoubtedly during the reign of Emperor Justinian I. He oversaw the construction of the Hagia Sophia, the greatest church in medieval Christendom, and attempted to conquer the old Roman lands from the barbarians. It helped that he had the beautiful and intelligent Theodora besides his side as his empress. An equal partner to the Byzantine Emperor, Theodora helped Justinian during his most difficult times, such as persuading him to use brute force against the uncivilized mobs during the Nika riots."

"A strong man always needs a strong woman supporting him," said the younger woman as she gazed lovingly at the older man.

"Yet again, the Byzantines were also not interested in being civilized as they were conquered by the Ottomans. Without the Second Rome led by the Byzantines, the Ottoman savages pushed their way deep into Europe. The Ottomans were eventually stopped at the gates of the very city we are currently enjoying our coffee and Sachertorte, but the damage was done as the Second Rome faded into the dustbin of history," said the older man.

The older man and younger woman failed to notice several people leaving the café, one group being two men and two women excitedly talking about visiting the Kunsthistorisches museum.

"Since the Fall of Constantinople, the title of the Third Rome has been disputed. The Russians claim that Moscow and the Russian Empire was the Third Rome by way of Byzantine royalty marrying into the Russian aristocracy. Of course, many other nations claimed the title of the Third Rome: the Holy Roman Empire, the First French Empire, Fascist Italy, and Nazi Germany. I, on the other hand, considered the United States of America to have been a serious contender to being the Third Rome. Think about it. America was first ruled as a kingdom through being controlled by the United Kingdom of Great Britain during colonial times. Then after the Revolution, the United States became a republic with elected representatives like the Roman Republic," explained the older man.

"I thought America was still a republic considering how the retarded American public keeps electing the same dumbasses to high-ranking government positions," commented the younger woman.

"In my opinion, today's America is a republic in name only. The modern American President can be considered a de facto Emperor by the amount of power he yields. In truth, the U.S. government is really controlled by the President and his cronies in the legislative and judicial branches. So overall, America today is an empire like the Roman and Byzantine Empire," said the older man. "But since Americans are no longer interested in being civilized, they have relinquished the title of the Third Rome. It seems as if western civilization has died out and only savagery is left in the world."

The younger woman saw the sadness in the man's posture as he rambled on about the tragic fate of the West.

"We both escaped from the American cesspool to Europe to relish in the last vestiges of civility, and I have formally disowned my wife and daughter for their acceptance of the new world created by those fucking three Internet Police agents. But even here in Europe, the Americans have spread their plague of barbarism through encouraging public nudity and experimental drugs. You know what fuck this. Western Civilization is dead. I might as well have fucking killed myself with a pistol back in America considering the state of affairs," said the older man.

The older man was about to drink his coffee as a final toast to the West when it was knocked out of his hand by the younger woman. Disregarding the sounds of the cup breaking on the floor, the younger woman stood and began her own lecture.

"Do you remember what I said to you in Virginia after you killed that spoiled cunt? I said there were so many more targets to kill that led to the fucking sad state of America. We killed a whole lot of people even before we were recruited by George Zazz to round up and exterminate the idiotic Plebeians. Do you remember how fun it was before we were stopped by those three renegade Internet Police agents and their gullible friends?"

"Yeah," said the older man happily. "But what's your point?"

"My point is that we can continue the defense of Western civilization by being the inheritors of the Third Rome after the death of America and George Zazz. And you can be the Emperor of the Third Rome."

"Me?" questioned the older man.

"No. Alice Cooper. Yes you! And I can be your Empress at your side. Together we can be a power couple dedicated to bringing forth the Third Rome. We will be like Justinian and Theodora, Napoleon and Josephine, and Bonnie and Clyde," said the younger woman. "And I have just the right people to help us."

As a former American military soldier, the older man felt that he had lost his former strength and discipline when came home from the Middle East. Returning as a hero, he was rewarded with a bratty daughter, a push-over wife, and a cubicle job as an insurance salesman in Syracuse, New York. It was because of the younger woman that he regained his confidence and sense of meaning when she convinced him to kill those who destroyed America and western civilization. Here she was again encouraging him to make something of himself in a world devoid of courtesy.

"So my late New Year's Resolution will be to become the Emperor of the Third Rome and to make you my Empress besides my side," said the older man.

"Well said," said the younger woman.

Before departing from the café, the older man leaned towards the younger woman and whispered the following message.

"You are a pretty girl," whispered the older man to the younger woman.

"Thanks for being so frank," whispered the younger woman back to the older man.

Vienna was called the hub of classical music and psychoanalysis. Boston, Massachusetts, was the Hub of the Universe. Also known as the Athens of America and the City on a Hill, Boston was instrumental in the American experiment of democracy and free-thinking. Being one of the few American cities undamaged in the Great Schism, the Internet Police moved their headquarters from Chicago, abandoned after the final battle against George Zazz, to Boston. It was in the snow-covered Boston Public Garden adjacent of Boston Common that the Critic and the Nerd were sitting on a bench and reviewing HurricaneAubrey's complaints about her apprentice on their Electronic Databases, or E.D.s

"I took her to visit the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library & Museum to explore the complex legacy of a man who defined an entire generation in the 1960s. When I showed her the exhibit showcasing Kennedy's iconic speeches, she was busy texting on her portable device to her friends. I glanced over and saw that the screen had the text #BoringOldNews," said the Nerd as he read HurricaneAubrey's statement.

"Devastated by this, I decided to take her to Boston's Museum of Fine Arts to get her to appreciate the artistic masters. After making our way past the military soldiers guarding the entrance from people like the Weathervanes, we saw the finest collection of French Impressionist works outside of France and their American counterparts. As I was staring in awe at portraits made by Élisabeth Vigée-Lebrun, I asked my apprentice for her opinion, and she replied with this. 'Burn this whole building down'," spoke the Critic as he read HurricaneAubrey's complaint.

The Critic and the Nerd switched off their E.D.s, thinking about what HurricaneAubrey said about her apprentice.

"She is going to meet us for a much-needed break from our establishment of the defenses against the Weathervane's planned attack on the Mall of America in Minnesota," said the Critic.

"Are you sure it was a good idea to place HurricaneAubrey's apprentice in charge of catching the Weathervanes off guard at the Mall of America? I'm not sure she's ready for a solo mission," commented the Nerd.

"I just want to eradicate HurricaneAubrey's hatred and distrust of her. And besides, HurricaneAubrey's apprentice led the way in defending the San Diego Comic-Con from the Patrician army led by Henry Zazz, George's son. I'm sure she is capable of fighting for the Internet Police's cause," said the Critic.

"I don't doubt her fighting skills. It's her loyalties that I'm questioning," said the Nerd.

"I trust that she will come around to our cause," said the Critic.

The Critic and the Nerd were going to take HurricaneAubrey to a public movie screening of the original 1985 Back to the Future movie at the Boston Public Library.

"I heard that the Back to the Future reboot is available for home viewing after bombing at the box office," said the Nerd. "Thankfully, it bombed because I refuse to see that unnecessary cash grab."

"I saw it, and for being a reboot of one of the most beloved movies of all time, it was decent," said the Critic.

"Really? Because from what I heard, everyone thought it was crap. When the first trailers came out with unfunny jokes and alleged racism, everybody already knew that the Back to the Future reboot was going to suck," said the Nerd.

"It doesn't completely suck. It had a lot of good elements in it. I thought the action scenes were an improvement over the original, with an intense flying car chase scene through the skies of Hill Valley being the highlight of the reboot. I also liked how the reboot allowed the DeLorean to move through space instead of just through time, allowing us to see different time periods around the world rather than just sticking to Hill Valley," stated the Critic.

"But what about the obvious pandering to the female demographic by turning the characters of Marty McFly and Doc Brown into women," said the Nerd. "And don't you say that I'm a chauvinistic pig because the feminists already want my head after I made the statement of not watching the reboot at all."

"I'm sure that little girls will see role models in the female versions of Marty McFly and Doc Brown," said the Critic twitching his fingers nervously.

"But I'm sure the movie still sucked. I'm sure a good sequel to the Back to the Future movies could have been made after all this time, but after constant delays and false starts, the best Hollywood could come up with is a reboot that, judging by the trailers, is filled with a bunch of queef jokes, jokes at the expense of minorities in different geographical timelines, and good old fashioned male bashing," said the Nerd.

"Oh I'm sure you're exaggerating all of this considering I saw the reboot and you didn't," said the Critic.

"I refuse to see it on the principle of not giving Hollywood any of my money that would give them justification of making even more disgusting remakes. The Back to the Future remake is the result of when a constipated Hollywood took an ex lax and shitted out the nastiest fucking shit you ever saw. In the end, I'm not going to be a sucker and watch the Back to the Future reboot. Instead, I'm going to watch the original and classic Back to the Future starring Michael J. Fox and Christopher Lloyd."

The Nerd left the bench to meet with HurricaneAubrey as she looked excited to seeing the original Back to the Future.

"What is your opinion of the Back to the Future reboot?" asked the Nerd to HurricaneAubrey.

"To put it elegantly in your own language, it sucked," said HurricaneAubrey.

"Wise choice of words," said the Nerd as he smugly looked back at the Critic.

As night fell upon Boston, the three Internet Police agents were given the opportunity to watch the original Back to the Future at the Boston Public Library and relax from their current mission of stopping the Weathervanes from causing havoc in America. After stopping their plan to blow up St. Stephen's Cathedral in Vienna, the Weathervanes were short of funding as their contributors grew reluctant to donate more money to failed missions. As the three Internet Police agents previously discussed with each other, the Weathervanes wanted to attack the Mall of America as a way of regaining the trust of their investors in their social justice causes, with one of their pet projects being to stop an epidemic that only affected men: manspreading. As the three Internet Police agents watched the scene where Marty McFly was describing to Doc Brown that he was from the future time of 1985 and that Ronald Reagan would become President of the United States, they wondered how Marty McFly and Doc Brown would perceive the America they created after the Great Schism. The Critic and the Nerd were unable to get their minds off the mess they inherited and partially caused. HurricaneAubrey appeared to be more successful in masking her worries about being an Internet Police agent as she was thoroughly enjoying the film. In the end, the Critic and Nerd flashed back to a time after the end of the Great Schism when they were terrorizing the town of Crawford, Texas for all the right reasons.

"Help me! I'm being tied to railroad tracks by these two bandits!" screamed an overly hysterical woman as she was being held down by mustache twirling outlaws known as the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd.

"Quiet woman!" shouted the Critic. "Nobody's here to save you."

"It's not as if there are two dashing cowboys in shining boots who will save you now," said the Nerd.

Off in the distance of the rising sun, two cowboys were riding on horses of a different breed: wooden broomsticks with horse heads. And the names of the two cowboys were RowdyC of TV Trash fame and Brian Collins. These two native Texans, adorned with stereotypical Wild West costumes, were running to save the damsel in distress from two mustached crooks.

"Alright. Give it all you got," said RowdyC with a confident smile.

"Boom goes the dynamite!" shouted Brian with conviction.

The two Texans threw their ropes at the Critic and Nerd, hoping to lasso them and free the hysterical woman tied to railroad tracks. Ninety nine percent of people who saw the sight of two grown men riding on horses made of broomsticks would be so flummoxed at the spectacle that they would not have been prepared to being thoroughly defeated by RowdyC and Brian. But the Critic and Nerd were a part of the one percent of people prepared for the unpredictable, and as a result, the Nerd and Critic dodged the ropes, immediately pulling on them to bring the two Texas cowboys to the ground.

"You won't get away with this you sons of a gun!" shouted RowdyC as he was being tied with the rope intended for the Critic and Nerd.

"Boom doesn't go the dynamite!" yelled Brian as he was being tied as well.

With their mission complete, the Critic and Nerd untied the woman on the railroad tracks.

"Thanks for helping us catch these two misguided individuals who have been causing havoc throughout Texas by their cowboy antics," said the Critic to the woman.

"My pleasure. Just make sure you set these two boys straight and not have them damage any more property and endanger more lives," said the woman as she departed back to her normal life.

After much tedious arguing and pointless name-calling, the two Internet Police agents finally convinced RowdyC and Brian to have a productive conversation within a tourist shop filled with merchandising related to George W. Bush. Brian remained silent as he blankly stared at iconic images of George W. Bush's presidency, ranging from speaking from the wreckage of the World Trade Center to giving a victory speech with the banner Mission Accomplished behind him. As Brian moved on towards looking at bobble heads of George W. Bush and a myriad of American and Texas flags, RowdyC was preoccupied with arguing with the Critic and Nerd about the state of his life after the Great Schism.

"Look. I know that Emperor George wasn't a saint, and I was appalled in realizing the true nature of his rehabilitation facilities on Utopia Island and the Island of the Misfits. I was also against his changed policy of performing actual killings on the Plebeian population, which I tried to prevent by stating that this would backfire spectacularly on the Patricians. But I still stand by beliefs that life has gotten worse since people like you stopped Emperor George and allowed the proliferation of garbage in movies and television," spoke RowdyC to the Critic and Nerd.

"Does that excuse you and your friend to dress up like cowboys and create pandemonium throughout Texas?" asked the Critic.

"Let us list the ways you and your cowboy buddy disrupted daily life in Texas: lassoing people in cow costumes, chasing out Mexicans from the Alamo in San Antonio, smashing mall windows in a misguided attempt to lure people to the great outdoors, stealing cattle from ranchers you mistakenly thought were rustlers, attempting to pull down oil derricks, and robbing banks you thought were owned by robber barons" said the Nerd. "I must how does this relate to the spread of supposedly crappy films and television shows."

"Because today's world is fraked up right now. Right now, I'm trying to return the world back to its pre-corrupt state. As native Texans, Brian and I believe that the Wild West of cool cowboys and free, pristine landscape is the best time period to revert back to. But if you're so closed-minded to not accept our cowboy heroics, then I'll become a disco dancer in the 1970s. And don't tell me that the 1970s wasn't the best time period ever," said RowdyC.

"I don't want to sound like a narrow-minded bigot, but I'm no fan of the 1970s," began the Critic.

"Frak you, Critic. The 1970s brought us the golden age of Hollywood and television," countered RowdyC.

"And Watergate, rising crime rates, terrible fashion sense, and the Magnavox Odyssey," said the Nerd. "Really, the only good things to come out of the 1970s are Star Wars and a couple of good movies and television shows that just happened to be made in the 1970s."

"At least the 1970s didn't have the Iraq War causing discord and chaos beneath the façade of patriotism," said RowdyC in reference to being in a tacky tourist trap selling George W. Bush trinkets.

The Critic and Nerd gave awkward laughs as the former launched into a miniature history lesson.

"You think the Iraq War was bad? Let me tell you about the Vietnam War. Many more Americans died in Vietnam than in Iraq, though I don't discount the sacrifices made in both wars. And if you think the protests and mudslinging we see today are bad, consider the near-anarchical state of the 1970s due to protests over the Vietnam War and the Civil Rights movement," said the Critic. "And that's not getting over the generational gap between the conservative Greatest Generation and the liberal, rock and roll Baby Boomers."

RowdyC looked to Brian for support against the Critic and Nerd's distaste for the 1970s.

"Boom doesn't go the dynamite," said Brian simply.

"I see that you're abandoning your loyalty to the past to spout modern-day memes," stated the Critic.

Poetically, Brian took off both of his shoes and threw them at the Critic and the Nerd.

"What was all that about?!" shouted the Nerd as he and the Critic dodged the shoes.

"That's all I have now! My own meme! That's my worth in this world!" yelled Brian before launching into his rant. "As a journalist for both MicroNews and INN, I tried to remain unbiased in my coverage of Emperor George's plans for America. Of course, the last days of the Great Schism of America had me convinced that Emperor George was a mad tyrant that needed to be stopped, and I was eager to meet and interview the three heroes who brought down his reign of terror. I wanted to thank you back then."

"So what happened that led you to throw shoes at us rather than thanking us?" asked the Critic.

"I was replaced by robot journalists at both MicroNews and INN," answered Brian bitterly. "People may complain about the appalling state of today's movies and television shows, but they don't know what real suffering involves. Because actual pain involves being unemployed with useless journalism skills Critic. You may have suffered through the horribleness of the Garbage Pail Kids movie. I endured the laughter and mockery of employers who see my journalist history as being irrelevant and in low demand Nerd. You may have experienced the inconvenience of playing on the Magnavox Odyssey. I would gladly trade my present-day life for a chance to go back to the 1970s, the time of the Magnavox Odyssey."

Brian walked past a picture displaying images of Americans showing signs of patriotism and unity in the aftermath of 9/11, ranging from flying American flags from their houses to participating in charities helping families affected by terrorism.

"I wish I could return to a time when humanity still mattered in the grand scheme of things, both physically and psychologically," lamented Brian. "What can be so difficult in simply abandoning modern technologies that destroy the human component of life? We have all the archival information on life in the past and small-scale historical recreations right now. Why not use our encyclopedic knowledge of the past to return humanity back to its former glory?"

"And what glorious time period would you like to return to?" questioned the Critic to Brian.

"Anywhere in the past is better than the life we are living right now," said Brian. "Maybe Emperor George, the Patricians, and the ex-Patricians had a point when they started their crusade to save humanity from itself."

"Wow. And here I was thinking that life sucked mainly due to reality television," said RowdyC.

"Do you remember why we decided to become cowboys in the first place?" asked Brian.

"To live a life without modern worries or burdens," said RowdyC. "We were just two unemployed journalists made obsolete by the machines, and we became cowboys to regain a sense of purpose in our miserable lives."

The Critic and Nerd were in the process of coming up with a counterargument when Brian interrupted them.

"Everything would have been much simpler if you two hadn't messed things up for everyone. Was it worth it? Losing my job to satisfy the needs of the few who are at a technologically higher level than me," said Brian. "Such reverence for technology wouldn't have existed in the past. And let's not forget your wanton destruction of Chicago, of which I now fully comprehend how unnecessary it was."

"You two seem to protect the interest of the poor internet celebrities who were persecuted by Emperor George. Their punishment was not making makeup tutorials, telling scatological jokes, smashing valuable property for subscribers, and condoning unbridled anarchy," said RowdyC. "Was it worth fighting a war against people with the best intentions for the future to end up with a lazy, unimaginative, and unambitious generation in charge? I can't wait to see the disaster that will unfold next after your debacle in Chicago."

The Critic and Nerd were enraged by how low RowdyC and Brian thought of their sacrifices against George Zazz.

"I think the West beckons to us," said RowdyC. "What do you say we leave these two city slickers behind?"

"The future lies in the past," said Brian.

Momentarily distracted, the two Internet Police agents heard the breaking of glass, as they saw RowdyC and Brian riding on brooms into the sunset.

"Yeehaw!" shouted RowdyC.

"Let's go save Texas!" yelled Brian.

Suddenly, a DeLorean drove in front of them. As an iconic car from the 1985 film Back to the Future, the two Texans stared at it in awe.

"Get in!" shouted a grizzled voice. "Remember the Alamo!"

Hearing the war cry of the Texas Revolution, RowdyC and Brian jumped into the back seats of the DeLorean, and they saw who their rescuers were. Much to their dismay, they were the last people they wanted to see.

"Hello, I'm the Nostalgia Critic. I remember it so you don't have to," said a smiling Critic.

"Internexus vult, motherfuckers," said the Nerd.

RowdyC and Brian tried in vain to open the backdoors of the DeLorean. The Critic and Nerd ignored the struggles in the backseats as they drove past a billboard with George W. Bush waving to anyone driving out of Crawford.

"Miss me yet?" asked the billboard to drivers passing by, which in this case were the Critic and the Nerd.

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't," said the Critic in response to this simple question.

Moving out of their Texas flashback, the Critic and Nerd saw that the public showing of the original Back to the Future in the Boston Public Library was ending.

"Roads? Where we're going we don't need… roads," said Doc Brown as he flew the DeLorean into the air, bringing the film to a satisfying conclusion.

With the end credits for the original Back to the Future appearing, an enormous applause erupted from the spectators, with the loudest coming from HurricaneAubrey. With the attendants exiting the library onto the snowy Boston streets, HurricaneAubrey caught up to the Critic as he was waving goodbye to the Nerd.

"Come by my apartment. I want to show you something I've been working on," said HurricaneAubrey to the Critic.

The next day, the Critic was standing in front of an apartment door. Knocking on it, he was greeted by a long, brunette haired woman wearing an oversized white t-shirt smeared with a variety of unknown substances. HurricaneAubrey greeted the Critic with an adorable smile as she crossed her legs while leaning against the doorway.

"I see that you've been busy. I didn't know that you had company," remarked the Critic who wasn't sure if HurricaneAubrey was even wearing pants under her oversized t-shirt.

"No I'm all alone. I've been busy painting and crafting a grand canvas. You want to see it?" asked a smiling HurricaneAubrey.

"Oh I thought you meant… never mind," said an embarrassed Critic as he followed HurricaneAubrey into her apartment.

He carefully walked over a collection of paint cans, brushes, and other artistic tools scattered about on a floor covered in newspaper.

"That explains the stains on her shirt," thought the Critic.

The Critic then saw the only closed door in the apartment building.

"Trust me. You don't want to go into my apprentice's living quarters," said HurricaneAubrey as she led the Critic to her canvas.

The Critic stared at the massive canvas stretching against a significant part of a wall. It was covered in splashes of paint that resembled HurricaneAubrey's splattered over-sized shirt.

"What is this, your idea of modern art?" asked the Critic, who was expecting more from HurricaneAubrey.

"Of course not," said HurricaneAubrey. "I'm just testing to see which colors would stand out more on this canvas."

HurricaneAubrey took out a folded sheet of paper from her shirt's pocket.

"This is what I intend the finished work to look like," said HurricaneAubrey as she showed the paper to the Critic.

The Critic saw that the preliminary sketch had a landscape of warfare through the ages. The Critic saw war being fought from ancient times with spears and swords to the modern age with stealth bombers and machine guns, with cities of stone and glass being set ablaze.

"What do you think?" asked HurricaneAubrey. "I'm trying to create my version of Pablo Picasso's Guernica. I call it The Generational Cycle."

"Why?" questioned the Critic.

"Because since the beginning, humanity has undergone generational disputes between the older and younger generations. It wouldn't surprise me if one of the first generational conflicts was between those the elders who favored a hunter-gathering way of life to the young folks who wanted to adopt an agricultural society necessary for the rise of civilization," said HurricaneAubrey. "But since the dawn of the 20th century, the generational turmoil has accelerated to unmanageable levels, culminating into the Great Schism of America that tore countless people including myself and my little sister apart. I feel that this canvas would serve as a cautionary tale against perpetuating the cycle of distrust and antagonism between generations. So what do you think Critic?"

Though he specialized in film criticism, the Critic felt confident that he could transfer his cinematic reviewing skills to analyzing HurricaneAubrey's plans for the canvas.

"I appreciate that you gave intricate details to the war-torn images that has plagued humankind since its humble beginnings, but I don't think that this best illustrates what real generational conflict entails. This would be great work of art showcasing the graphic details of warfare, but we already have works of art like Guernica to illustrate this point. And considering how my military father showed me every war painting and movie known to man, I am tired of seeing another generic piece commentating on war," said he Critic. "I would be grateful if you do something new if you want to get your statement across more thoroughly."

"Okay," said HurricaneAubrey sweetly if a little downtrodden. "I can see where you are coming across."

"Still, I am impressed by your efforts to create something original, which is more than can be said for other artists" said the Critic.

"Thank you," said HurricaneAubrey. "How about we move on to another subject?

"Very well. Perhaps we can talk about the artistic merits of Fantasia, one of my favorite movies of all time. I think you're mature enough to understand why Fantasia is such a masterpiece," said the Critic.

"Of course I adore Fantasia. It is like going to an art museum but with motion and music," responded HurricaneAubrey.

"Well said," remarked the Critic.

In a Boston apartment building, a film critic wearing glasses, a black cap, a red tie, a white shirt underneath a black jacket, and blue jeans was analyzing Fantasia with an aspiring artist wearing an oversized t-shirt smeared in paint. Sitting on the floor, they discussed the abstract and elegant nature of Toccata and Fugue in D Minor, the whimsical anarchy of The Sorcerer's Apprentice, and the spiritual experience of Night on Bald Mountain. From an outsider's perspective, it would seem abnormal to think these two people of different generations would be having an intelligent conversation about Disney's Fantasia. But it was happening right now.

"If only my little sister was here to join us," thought HurricaneAubrey. "At least my apprentice isn't here to ruin things."

Just as fate helped her in Vienna, so fate would work against HurricaneAubrey as the Critic's Electronic Database buzzed. The Critic gave one look at it, and gave some bad news to HurricaneAubrey.

"Looks like the Weathervanes have claimed the Mall of America as their own sanctuary," said the Critic. "Your apprentice is in trouble."

"I'm not surprised," said HurricaneAubrey rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms. "I wouldn't be astonished if she personally invited them in."

As the Critic watched HurricaneAubrey retreat into her bedroom to change into attire more appropriate for a rescue mission at the Mall of America, the Critic looked at the enormous canvas intended for the piece The Generational Cycle. The Critic thought about his friendship with HurricaneAubrey and how it was sustained due to shared interests and mutual respect despite generational differences. He wondered if HurricaneAubrey could reconcile with her apprentice just as he did with her. More ambitious and unrealistic, he pondered if he could bring an end to the generational cycle that has been a part of humanity since time immemorial.

 **Please review this story to provide me some advice on improving it. What other internet personalities or memes should the Internet Police encounter?**


	2. Resolutions Part 2

**I do not own any of the internet personalities or memes presented in this story.**

The Internet Police: Year in Review

Resolutions, Part 2

"Minnesota. The Land of 10,000 Lakes. Home to the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul. And the most boring ass state in America," remarked a blonde woman.

It was in the faraway land of Bloomington, Minnesota that a blonde woman known as Jennxpenn was reading through a brochure of the Land of 10,000 Lakes. She was an Internet Police agent stationed in the Mall of America on an important mission of preventing the Weathervanes from overtaking it, which she evidently failed to stop. Stripped of her portable device that would allow her to post her feelings to the internet, she resorted to using a mirror to serve as a camera that would transmit her thoughts to a pretend global audience. Initially vlogging about the unremarkable state of Minnesota, Jennxpenn decided to shift her viral rants towards the woman she had extreme hatred for: HurricaneAubrey.

"In order to prove my worth to that uptight witch HurricaneAubrey, the Nostalgia Critic convinced me to take a solo mission at the Mall of America. I was given a segway and had to patrol the Mall of America watching boring Minnesotans go shopping. I assume this was HurricaneAubrey's idea of a cruel joke, reassigning me to this hellhole in the north. When I repeatedly complained to the Critic about being reduced to a mall cop, he gave me an even better position: fast food worker at Chunky's Chicken," said Jennxpenn.

Jennxpenn quickly lowered and raised her mirror to emulate the jump cuts that frequently accompanied her internet videos.

"HurricaneAubrey must have been sleeping with the Critic, and during their nightly training sessions, she convinced him to humiliate me by giving me a shitty job under the pretext of spying on the Weathervanes while preparing drumsticks for the dumb Minnesotans," spoke Jennxpenn with loathing. "Maybe if HurricaneAubrey wasn't so bitchy towards me, I would have been more prepared to defend this craphole from the Weathervanes. Instead, we are forced to paint the Mall of America's walls black under the notion of apologizing for America's crimes against minorities. It's their nonsensical beliefs that made me leave them in the first place."

Once again, Jennxpenn made a swift motion of her mirror.

"I sometimes wished I wasn't tempted to join the Internet Police after losing my fabulous Los Angeles lifestyle," said Jennxpenn sadly.

"Are you done talking to yourself?! Martin Luther King Jr. didn't talk to himself when he fought against the white people for their crimes against African Americans. Of all the days of the year, you chose to distract yourself from painting the Mall of America black on Martin Luther King Jr. Day. Shame on you white woman!" shouted the white woman named College Liberal. "If you don't start painting the walls black, I'll castrate the first man I lay my eyes on!"

Jennxpenn saw all the male prisoners cross their legs as an instinctive defense mechanism against what College Liberal planned to do to them. Not wanting any more trouble, Jennxpenn went back to painting the walls black. She tried not to look at the Weathervanes members as they wore black attire and held white guns in their hands.

"Nice going, young lady," said a skinny man dressed in a khaki work uniform emblazoned with the logo of a company known as Lightning Fast VCR Repair. "You've been causing bad luck for Mike and me since you served us cold and burnt Chunky's Chicken pieces. We needed a good old meal from Chunky's Chicken for the VCR convention at the Mall of America."

"Who uses VCRs nowadays? That's such an ancient piece of technology that even the ancient Egyptians wouldn't use," said Jennxpenn mockingly.

"And this is why, Jay, movies made by Michael Bay's production companies make millions of dollars. Because of people like her who just want shiny and explosive imagery," said Mike with a blue Lightning Fast VCR Repair work uniform.

Jennxpenn realized she was in between two men named Mike and Jay. As the three of them were painting the wall in front of them black, the two men decided to address Jennxpenn's lack of respect for VCRs.

"VCRs don't require all that complex programming for it to work. You just pop in the video tape and the movie just plays. No need to deal with establishing unnecessary settings and decrypting mindless instructions that come with today's entertainment systems," said Jay.

"What about plugging in the VCR to the television and the power outlet itself? Aren't you forgetting that step?" asked Jennxpenn.

"At least that's the most difficult part of installing a VCR. Instead, we have to spend countless hours unraveling cords and movie players that require incomprehensible codes to work," said Jay.

"I assume you repaired a bunch of VCRs to back up such statements regarding the VCR's superior over more modern forms of movie players," said Jennxpenn.

Mike and Jay gave silent looks at each other as if they were hiding something. Undeterred by Jennxpenn's piercing question, Mike decided to change the subject.

"I bet your generation loved the Back to the Future remake that bombed despite your efforts to make it a hit," said Mike. "Tell me, are you also excited for the Bill and Ted remake that will feature Wilma and Theodora traveling through time and space while dealing with modern high school issues?"

"What's wrong with having more female representation in movies? What is so bad about updating a film from the oppressive year of 1989 to reflect more progressive times?" said Jennxpenn.

"Have you seen the previews on the internet? They missed the entire point of Bill and Ted by portraying their female counterparts being involved in such compelling high school drama like getting prom dates and following the latest viral trends. I think they only cover the time-traveling elements of the franchise at the very end of the previews," said Mike.

"I saw the preview for the Bill and Ted remake, and I liked that Wilma and Theodora got all the historical women to tell the male population of their school that women can do anything men can do," replied Jennxpenn.

"First off, the previews essentially spoiled the ending of the movie. Secondly, the original Bill and Ted was a simple comedy involving two teenage boys having a rocking good time through history. There was no need for a forced message pandering to the female demographic. Lastly, there was hardly any time traveling or jokes in the previews. What's the point of remaking Bill and Ted if they're going to betray so much of what made the original so great? Why not rename the movie Wilma and Theodora if the movie was going to be something entirely different?" explained Jay.

"Because greedy Hollywood executives needed older audiences like us to be suckered in by nostalgia and sentimentality for the original movie," said Mike. "That's how they maximize their profits."

"Hollywood is out of ideas for original material, and has to resort to strip mining our childhoods to make movies," said Jay.

"What's next, a remake of Gremlins involving bullshit CGI instead of lifelike animatronics and puppets?" said Mike with a depressed look on his face.

"Or a remake of the 1980s sitcom Small Wonder," said Jay. "I heard they're remaking Small Wonder as a romantic sitcom involving a robotic teenage girl dealing with real life issues like dating and attending prom that every teenage girl must face."

"Fuck," said Mike simply.

"The Small Wonder remake might be good," said Jennxpenn. "They could make it into a compelling teen drama as a contrast from the cheesiness of the original 1980s version."

"Less talking and more painting!" shouted College Liberal as she summoned her Weathervane members to march menacingly closer to Mike, Jay, and Jennxpenn.

Mike and Jay immediately became silent. They sighed as they continued painting the walls black. As a final statement on where Jennxpenn stood on the issue of remakes, Mike whispered his closing thoughts.

"I bet you're also going to justify the existence of the Star Wars prequels by citing the 108-page Phantom Menace rebuttal against Mr. Plinkett. Typical of your generation," said Mike. "I could really use a Milwaukee beer right now."

Jennxpenn was unsure with how to respond to Mike's criticism of her out loud in the presence of College Liberal and the Weathervanes eyeing her closely.

"Mike and Jay are almost as bad as HurricaneAubrey," thought Jennxpenn as she continued painting the walls black with a paint roller.

On the roof of the Mall of America, the Internet Police agents the Nostalgia Critic, the Angry Video Game Nerd, and HurricaneAubrey were filling their paintball guns with black and white paint.

"HurricaneAubrey. Survey the Mall through the glass roof and tell us what you see," said the Nerd as his breath was seen through the cold Minnesotan air.

HurricaneAubrey crept over the glass ceiling and saw the Weathervanes forcing their prisoners to paint the Mall of America black, with work now being started on painting the floor entirely black.

"The prisoners are just about done with the walls, and are going to start redecorating the floor and the ceiling," summarized HurricaneAubrey.

"We better move quickly if we're going to surprise the Weathervanes with our idea of a color war," said the Critic.

"Good thing Greendale Community College allowed us to borrow these high-class paintball guns for the purpose of liberating the Mall of America from the Weathervanes," said the Nerd.

"Why couldn't we invite our Greendale buddies to join us in a paintball war with the Weathervanes?" asked HurricaneAubrey. "I would have loved to have the Nerd and me reunite with Abed and Rachel as a Band of Siblings saving the Mall of America."

"I think they had enough action to last them a lifetime during the Great Schism of America," commented the Nerd. "And besides, they are busy establishing themselves as serious filmmakers in Hollywood, where they can enjoy action scenes that doesn't involve a high risk of serious injury or death."

"At least they would be better partners than the one I'm stuck with," lamented HurricaneAubrey.

"Why don't you want to give Jennxpenn a chance, HurricaneAubrey?" asked the Critic. "You remember how you and I didn't get along until we got to know each other on a more personal level after the Second War."

"And I believe you know all about my legendary duel with the Critic during the course of the First War," said the Nerd. "If we can overcome our differences to make reviews about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, then I'm sure you and Jennxpenn can become what the female population call BFFs."

"Not after what happened in Oregon," said HurricaneAubrey as she flashed back to a mission that was both a success and a failure.

In HurricaneAubrey's flashback, three Internet Police agents were waiting for a gas attendant to finish pumping gas into their car, with this event taking place in the darkness of early morning. Unusually, it was not the Critic and the Nerd who were traveling with HurricaneAubrey. It was Jennxpenn and Hardcore Kid, the latter being a top performing agent who wore sunglasses to complement his leather jacket. As HurricaneAubrey and Hardcore Kid were planning their rescue mission, Jennxpenn was reading a guidebook on Oregon, but much to HurricaneAubrey and Hardcore Kid's chagrin, she was not reading for strategic purposes.

"Oregon. The Beaver State. Home of Portland, the City of Roses. And is a boring ass state," said Jennxpenn with a sigh of impatience. "When will that gas attendant finish filling up the car? I want to get out of this state as soon as possible?"

"You do realize we're trying to save Oregon. You should be lucky that we're in one of the few states that require gas to be pumped by a gas attendant. If we were in pretty much any other state in America, then I would force you to pump the gas as an exercise in humility," said Hardcore Kid. "Of course, girls of your generation would probably be too dumb to operate a gas pump."

"Do you think you can talk crap about me while wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses in the dark? It doesn't make you look cool. It makes you look pathetic," countered Jennxpenn.

"At least I didn't bring about the downfall of Nickelodeon like you and Fred Figglehorn did," said Hardcore Kid.

"Settle down you two!" shouted HurricaneAubrey from the driver's seat. "We're all on the same team. The gas attendant is almost done. With a full tank of gas, we'll be able to drive without interruption to our destination in the Willamette Valley."

"Can you tell me why we're going to Willamette Valley?" asked Jennxpenn.

"What did I tell you? Typical dumb blonde," said Hardcore Kid as the gas attendant was finished filling up the car.

Trying to suppress her frustration of Jennxpenn's ignorance of their assignment, HurricaneAubrey explained their Oregon mission while driving the car to their destination.

"You see Jennxpenn. There was a Pokémon convention in Portland, Oregon, and apparently, several Pokémon fans were kidnapped by people dressed up in early 19th century pioneer clothing. Hardcore Kid and I deduced that these kidnappers were Oregon Trail role-players who took their hobby extremely seriously. Their goal is to convince Oregonians to return back to their pioneering roots of traveling on oxen-driven wagons and rubbing snow on frostbites. They claim it builds character. These pioneers would like nothing more than to remove the supposedly filthy Asiatic traits of the Pokémon fans," explained HurricaneAubrey.

"Will we finally be doing something exciting after training in the art of reciting world capitals?" questioned Jennxpenn.

"If exciting is taking down Oregon Trail pioneers with what we have stuffed in the car's trunk, then yes," answered HurricaneAubrey.

"What did we stuff back there again?" asked Jennxpenn.

"A buffalo, and not the one with wings," said HurricaneAubrey.

Somewhere in an isolated spot of the Willamette Valley, a collection of wagons were surrounding tied-up Pokémon fans struggling to get out, with the Oregon Trail role-players not faring better as they were eating bacon for the umpteenth time.

"Bacon for breakfast, bacon for lunch, and bacon for dinner. When will it end?" said a female Oregon Trail role-player as she chewed the bacon with displeasure.

"What's the matter? Are you tempted to join these Orientals in their vegetarian ways? We're frontiersmen, and we only eat meat. We only need bacon to survive in the wilderness," said a male pioneer.

"At least being Pokémon fans doesn't involve restricting your diet," said a soft-spoken but bold female Pokémon fan. "You only eat bacon? No wonder all of you are succumbing to scurvy."

All the pioneers, some of whom had scurvy, looked at this woman with surprise.

"And who may you be?" asked one of the pioneers.

"I am simply known as TamashiiHiroka," said the courageous woman, who was an avid video gamer and one of the most devoted Pokémon fan on the internet.

"What do you know about surviving the Oregon Trail?" said a male pioneer in a condescending tone. "Have you ever played the classic Oregon Trail computer game?"

"As a matter of fact, I did when I was growing up. Now I don't claim to be an expert in surviving the Oregon Trail, but even I knew that eating only bacon was a recipe for disaster. And also, I didn't waste my time shooting everything in my sight when traveling the trail. Tell me, how many animals have you managed to kill with your archaic rifles?" said TamashiiHiroka.

None of the pioneers were willing to answer that question, prompting TamashiiHiroka to smile.

"I'm assuming zero. That's probably why you had to rob stores for bacon. I don't think pioneers did that back in your good old days of the trail. What's wrong with eating berries? It would certainly be more authentic. Not action-packed enough I presume?" stated TamashiiHiroka.

"Watch your tongue woman!" yelled a male pioneer.

"You do realize that hunting animals involves more than just slamming your keyboard or clicking the mouse button. You just got lucky in kidnapping us when you cheated by using a truck to bring us here when you knocked us unconscious at the convention. So how respectful are you really with being a part of the Oregon Trail?" said TamashiiHiroka.

TamashiiHiroka's words caused hope to rise among the captured Pokémon fans while causing discord amongst the pioneers.

"You know what, screw this! I'm tired of eating bacon all day, seeing my friends getting scurvy, and I think I'm coming down with a case of dysentery," said a female pioneer.

"Don't worry about dysentery, you'll be fine," said a male pioneer.

"I could die!" yelled the female pioneer. "If you think I'm going to risk my life for this inconsistent pioneer life, then you're wrong! I'm going back to my air-conditioned home and getting the proper medical treatment that doesn't involve just whisky. Who's with me?"

TamashiiHiroka's initial arguments against the pioneers cascaded into an internal revolt amongst the pioneers, leading to three quarters of them going back to their life of modern conveniences. The remaining one quarter of pioneers were left wondering what to do next.

"You know, if we can hunt down a beast like a bison, then we can bring confidence back in those deserters," said a male pioneer.

"But I don't think American buffalos herds are roaming here," said the male pioneer with a sigh. "If there were buffalos, then we would easily take them down and restore our optimism."

As the sun rose on the Willamette Valley, the pioneers saw a wild animal off in the distance.

"What is that? A squirrel?" said one pioneer.

"A deer? A bear?" asked another pioneer.

"No. That's an American buffalo!" exclaimed one pioneer. "Let's shoot it with our rifles!"

The pioneers fired rounds upon rounds of bullets into the bison, but contrary to the natural order, the bison didn't fall to the ground. It remained upright as it stared blankly at the pioneers attempting to take it down. In the nearby trees, Jennxpenn, HurricaneAubrey, and the Hardcore Kid were staring at the fake buffalo they erected in front of the pioneer band. Through their binoculars, they saw the pioneers continually fire their rifles onto the buffalo. Further behind the pioneers, the three Internet Police agents saw the trapped Pokémon fans.

"We just need to wait until the pioneers run out of bullets, then we can attack them without risking our lives or that of the Pokémon fans," said HurricaneAubrey.

"But what if the pioneers figure out that the buffalo is fake before they run out of bullets?" asked Jennxpenn.

"Don't worry. They won't get close enough to figure out the buffalo is a fake. They wouldn't want to risk being gored by a wild buffalo," said Hardcore Kid. "HurricaneAubrey and I came up with this brilliant plan."

As HurricaneAubrey and Hardcore Kid watched as the buffalo was being struck with bullets, Jennxpenn was growing impatient as seconds turned into minutes. At the thirty minute mark, Jennxpenn didn't want to wait for minutes to turn into hours, and without warning, she charged towards the pioneers, armed only with a pistol. Jennxpenn knocked over the fake buffalo, resulting in the pioneers realizing that they had been tricked. Hardcore Kid rolled his eyes.

"Let's go save Jennxpenn," said HurricaneAubrey as she led Hardcore Kid into the ensuring battle.

From the perspective of TamashiiHiroka, she could barely see through the wagons that encircled her and her fellow Pokémon fans. All she knew was that the pioneers saw a buffalo (surprisingly wandering in this part of America) and were firing repeatedly into it. After about thirty minutes of steady firing, the pioneers had seen something and were firing more unpredictably and chaotically.

"Was it a bear or the local authorities?" thought TamashiiHiroka as she heard the sounds of the pioneers shouting incoherently at each other.

After a few minutes of loud noises, silence fell. TamashiiHiroka knew that victory had been won, but she didn't know which side had won. The silence soon gave way to footsteps.

"Obviously human," thought TamashiiHiroka. "But who won the battle?"

TamashiiHiroka braced for whoever was approaching the wagons surrounding the Pokémon fans. Much to her relief, it was a brunette woman dressed in modern clothing.

"Hello," said the brunette woman. "I'm here to rescue you."

Immediately behind the brunette woman were a blonde woman and a man wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses. After being untied by these three individuals, TamashiiHiroka and all the other Pokémon fans walked out of the enclosure of wagons and saw that all the remaining pioneers had been subdued by these three heroes.

"We did it," said the blonde woman.

"You did nothing but charge into battle without a clear plan, Jennxpenn," said the man with sunglasses and a leather jacket. "HurricaneAubrey and I came up with a foolproof idea that you messed up. We're lucky that nobody died when you fucked up."

"We could've gone straight into a full out assault on these pioneers when they weren't carrying rifles filled with bullets," said Jennxpenn. "Instead, they had fully armed rifles in their hands as they were firing upon a fake buffalo, increasing the risk of us getting killed."

"Well they would have run out of bullets if you hadn't lost patience. Guess your generation isn't used to waiting," countered Hardcore Kid.

"And how long would that have taken. A couple more hours?" retorted Jennxpenn. "They would have eventually known that the buffalo was a fake long before they ran out of bullets, and who knows what they would have done to the Pokémon fans when they realized they had been duped."

"I guess we'll never know what would've happened," said Hardcore Kid with a smug smile. "As these Pokémon fans can tell you, HurricaneAubrey and I saved them from certain doom when we dodged all the bullets coming at us."

"No. I did my part when I tackled that pioneer down just when he was about to shoot at HurricaneAubrey's head," said Jennxpenn.

"That pioneer tripped and was nowhere near HurricaneAubrey," said Hardcore Kid. "During the few seconds I took my attention off fighting the pioneers, I saw you cowering below the grass like a whimpering baby, which is astonishing considering you rushed into fighting the pioneers."

"I was not cowering. I was dodging bullets. For the times I saw you Hardcore Kid, you were adjusting your glasses and leather jacket as if you were posing for a fashion magazine. What magazine would it be? Poser Weekly," said Jennxpenn with a confident smile. "I think these Pokémon fans can tell all of us how heroic I was and how unprofessional you were on the battlefield."

"Actually, we didn't see anything. We just heard the battle because the wagons blocked our range of vision," interjected TamashiiHiroka with all the other Pokémon fans nodding in agreement.

Jennxpenn and the Hardcore Kid turned to face the only reliable person who could tell them who fought bravely in battle and who was the incompetent one: HurricaneAubrey.

"HurricaneAubrey!" squealed Jennxpenn as she hugged her. "We're women, and women have each other's backs. Tell this man that I fought against the pioneers with the same expertise as the Nostalgia Critic."

"Really Jennxpenn? Using your gender as an exploitation tool to get what you want. Then again, I shouldn't be shocked considering that your internet videos are the definition of click bait material, with instances of posting naked thumbnails and vlogs about irrelevant shit nobody cares about," said Hardcore Kid. "In stark contrast, I post videos containing deep interpretation of animated and live-action movies like the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd."

"Listen asshole. I'm just asking HurricaneAubrey a simple question," said Jennxpenn staring at Hardcore Kid with disgust. She promptly gave a smile when she faced HurricaneAubrey. "How well did I do in battle compared with this poser?"

Wanting to remain neutral, HurricaneAubrey gave an answer that satisfied neither of them.

"You both did well in your own special way," said HurricaneAubrey simply.

Jennxpenn and Hardcore Kid crossed their arms as they faced away from each other.

"Feminazi," said Hardcore Kid to Jennxpenn.

Jennxpenn punched Hardcore Kid in the face, breaking his sunglasses.

"Apologize to Jennxpenn!" screamed HurricaneAubrey.

"Me! She fucking punched me in the face!" shouted Hardcore Kid. "Punish her instead!"

"She will be dealt with according, but I want you to apologize for your choice of words," said HurricaneAubrey.

"Guess the feminazis are in charge of the Internet Police considering what sorry excuses we have for new recruits," commented Hardcore Kid in reference to Jennxpenn. He immediately spoke again just as HurricaneAubrey was about to voice her objections. "Maybe Emperor George's permanent removal from the Internet Police was a tragedy after all considering what the organization has to deal with now. I will not be part of an Internet Police that involves such scum, and I'll encourage as many people as I can to leave this corrupted organization. And I'll tell them that they have HurricaneAubrey to thank for tolerating such foulness. Good day ma'am."

HurricaneAubrey watched as Hardcore Kid walked away from her to seek out his own path in life.

"Good riddance," said Jennxpenn.

HurricaneAubrey was looking defeated and distraught at this recent development.

"Uh… thanks for saving us," said TamashiiHiroka awkwardly.

Returning back from her flashback taking place in the Pacific Northwest, HurricaneAubrey saw that the Critic and Nerd were finishing up loading up the paintball guns with black and white paint.

"And I assume that you talked with TamashiiHiroka's encounter with the pioneers considering that you told us what exactly she did to cause three fourths of them to abandon their ways?" asked the Critic.

"I did speak to her. She was quite pleasant, and I think it was brilliant how she made the battle much easier for us to fight. Not that it did any good for my reputation as an Internet Police agent considering what happened soon afterwards," said HurricaneAubrey.

"We already know about how you blame Jennxpenn for causing Hardcore Kid to leave the Internet Police and taking a sizeable chunk of our agents with him," said the Nerd. "And you have repeatedly pointed out how you were ostracized by many of your fellow agents for not siding with Hardcore Kid. What's new is that you told us the exact circumstances of this mini-schism."

HurricaneAubrey looked down through the glass roof, where Jennxpenn has gone missing from the crowd of Weathervanes and their prisoners.

"Guess it's time to get her out of trouble… again," said HurricaneAubrey with a sigh as she followed the Critic and Nerd with their loaded-up paintball guns.

"Where is Jennxpenn?" asked the Critic.

"Probably lip-synching to Ellie Goulding songs while dancing on mattresses," said HurricaneAubrey without hesitation.

While the Internet Police agents were preparing for their risky assault on the Mall of America in the chilly environment of the Minnesotan winter, the Weathervane's prisoners were trying to cope with the dire situation in their own ways. For Mike and Jay, they would dissect the artistic and moral depravities of Happy Madison movies, from its money laundering schemes in the form of product placements to its appeal to the lowest common denominator. Of course, the majority of the prisoners had more typical coping mechanisms as demonstrated by their discussions of how they missed their friends and family members waiting for them outside. And then there was Jennxpenn. Seizing the opportunity of some alone time, she ventured into a mattress store, and with Ellie Goulding songs being played in the background, she began lip-synching. As she lip-synched Lights, Jennxpenn was able to clear her anxieties about her current situation.

"This is the life," thought Jennxpenn as she laid on each and every bed she could find in a field of mattresses, deliberately not thinking about how she was a captive of the Weathervanes.

But try as she might, she couldn't ignore her past history with College Liberal and her Weathervane army, and though she tried drowning out her traumatic flashbacks with lip-synching and jumping on beds, her mind reverted back to the day her life irrevocably changed for the worse.

"Get out of my head, George Zazz," thought Jennxpenn as she jumped on a mattress with excessive force in a vain attempt of drowning out memory of the day George Zazz arrived in Los Angeles. It was before she became an Internet Police agent or even heard of the organization.

On a bright, sunny day on the Santa Monica pier, a girl with a laptop was doing a vlog with the sounds of chattering people and crashing waves in the background.

"Hey guys, it's Jenn! So I'm sitting here right on the Santa Monica pier with a breathtaking view of the Pacific Ocean. But I'm actually planning on going on a vacation in the opposite direction. That's right, I'm going on a month-long trip to Europe," spoke Jennxpenn in a hyperactive voice.

In a typical vlog style, Jennxpenn constantly paused at the end of each sentence instead of speaking her statements in a continuous, flowing manner. She intentionally wanted to add jump-cuts in her vlog.

"Do you where I'm going in Europe? I'm going to England and France. In England, I'm going to visit London and the English countryside. In France, I'm going to Paris and the French countryside. Won't that be exciting for all of you to see?" commented Jennxpenn in an eager tone. "I don't know what to expect, but I bet it's going to be great."

Jennxpenn's smile faded somewhat when she thought more about her trip to Europe.

"I'm probably going to be bored visiting the art museums in London and Paris, filled with the works of dead men nobody has ever heard about. Most likely, I'm going to be texting my friends about my boredom or even sleeping while these artworks are admired by pretentious old men," said Jennxpenn as she turned towards the Santa Monica pier occupied by carefree and smiling pedestrians. "Maybe I'm not excited about my European trip after all. I don't think my idea of a good time involves enjoying the same activities as these stuck-up people who think they are better than everyone else just by listening to classical music and spending hours looking at totally outdated art. My idea of a good time would be hanging out with my BFFs like Strawburry17 and JoeyGraceffa in addition to making funny internet videos."

Jennxpenn decided to end the video on a happy note.

"But I'm going to be optimistic. Maybe I'll enjoy the classics despite my doubts about them at the beginning. During my adventures in Europe, I'll give the classics a chance to redeem themselves in the eyes of this girl right here," said Jennxpenn as she pointed her thumbs directly towards herself. "Don't forget to subscribe, and I'll see you next week."

Jennxpenn closed her laptop as she leaned back against her chair.

"Now all that's needed is to proofread, edit, and upload the video to my peeps," said an exhausted Jennxpenn.

Closing her eyes, Jennxpenn could feel the cool breeze and the vibrant sunshine of the Californian coast. It was a dramatic change in scenery from her Pennsylvanian homeland. Finding almost no opportunities in Pennsylvania, she moved to Los Angeles to grow her internet career, and for the most part, she succeeded as she has been gaining many more internet subscribers and obtaining several television and movie deals. She was living the high life right now, with her trip to Europe being only one of many rewards for her internet success.

"This is the life," said Jennxpenn as she leaned back against her chair.

It would be a long time before Jennxpenn would return to some semblance of normalcy as the sounds of helicopters filled the air, drowning out the happy sounds of birds chirping and people chatting. The spectators both in the ocean and on the boardwalk stared in awe of the helicopters carrying jeeps and motorcycles. Emblazoned with the words IIS, the helicopters were playing a song what Jennxpenn recognized as the Ride of the Valkyries. The occupants of the helicopters were wearing khaki, blue, and green safari uniforms with pith helmets on their heads. After darkening the sky with their presence, the helicopters soon landed on the beaches, the land around the boardwalk, and the boardwalk itself. Jennxpenn saw a jeep driving upon the boardwalk, and in the jeep's backseat, a teenage boy wearing khaki safari uniform was holding a megaphone.

"Citizens of Los Angeles. I am Henry Zazz, son of Emperor George of the Internet. I have been personally invited by your mayor to root out the Plebeian demons that have corrupted the city of Angels," spoke the English-accented teenager through the megaphone. "At the request of my glorious father, abandon your sinful ways, or suffer the consequences."

Though they didn't know who Emperor George or his son was, the Californians knew that they were outgunned, and they instinctively prostrated themselves before Henry.

"What a pompous jackass!" thought Jennxpenn as she reluctantly prostrated herself before the teenage boy. "At least I'm not going to stupidly charge at him."

Apparently, not everyone shared Jennxpenn's opinion as someone threw a soda can at Henry Zazz. The can missed Henry, but it was enough to infuriate him.

"Fire! Fire!" screamed Henry Zazz. "Cleanse Santa Monica of these Plebeian devils!"

From surfers in the water to the pedestrians on the boardwalk, these IIS soldiers spared no one from their wrath, and coupled with the addition of flamethrowers, nets, and ropes, pandemonium erupted. As soon as Jennxpenn saw IIS jeeps and motorcycles being driven on the Santa Monica pier with the soldiers carrying cattle prods, she knew that she needed to run as fast as she could. Unfortunately, she was knocked to the ground by the panicking Californians desperate to escape from the IIS soldiers on foot, on wheels, and in the air. Before losing consciousness, she saw two familiar figures amongst the IIS soldiers: an enthusiastic looking Strawburry17 and a downtrodden JoeyGraceffa.

"Emperor George. More like Anti-Semitic George," spoke a voice ringing in Jennxpenn's head.

Jennxpenn opened her eyes and saw that she was bedridden. Staring at her was a bespectacled college-aged woman with a knitted cap over her dreadlocks.

"You can call me College Liberal, and let me show you why Georgie is a horrible man," commented College Liberal.

College Liberal turned on the television behind her, and at once, Jennxpenn understood why Georgie meant trouble. There were fires erupting throughout Los Angeles as flamethrowers were used by Emperor George's army.

"We are here to cleanse the wicked by fire as ordained by Emperor George," shouted one of the soldiers as he fired his flamethrower onto Grauman's Chinese Theatre.

Jennxpenn felt enraged as the footage showed Emperor George's soldiers lighting fires onto several blocks of Los Angeles' modern structures. And when the camera footage showed Strawburry17 and JoeyGraceffa participating in the arrest of several of Jennxpenn's fellow YouTube friends, she was infuriated.

"Emperor George is Hitler," said College Liberal boldly.

Jennxpenn just stared at College Liberal with a dumbstruck look on her face.

"You know, the madman with the funny mustache," said College Liberal.

"Oh him! I heard about him during my boring history classes," said Jennxpenn. "He was the man who started this whole hatred of Jews for some reason."

"You have a lot to learn about how horrible life was in the past, Jennxpenn. Hitler didn't start the hatred of Jews. White people hated Jews long before Hitler was born. Do you remember what you heard when the helicopters arrived at the Santa Monica pier?" asked College Liberal.

"It was Ride of the Valkyries," said Jennxpenn. "I knew the name of the music from randomly browsing the internet."

"You can find anything on the internet, and unfortunately, that includes comment sections filled with misogynistic men. But anyway, Ride of the Valkyries was composed by Richard Wagner, a vicious anti-Semite. An old white man who hates Jews," said College Liberal. "No wonder Hitler loved him and his racist music, enough so that he invaded Poland with it."

"That's terrible! And Georgie and his army used this racist man's music to invade Los Angeles. He is like Hitler after all," said Jennxpenn.

"I have more proof of Georgie's links to the genocidal Hitler. Take a look at Hitler's Nazi soldiers marching down Paris' Champs-Élysées," said College Liberal as she took out her laptop.

Jennxpenn saw old video footage of Nazi soldiers marching along the Champs-Élysées, marching with uniformity as they carried Roman-style aquila (topped with eagles) and vexilla.

"And here is footage of what just happened on Los Angeles' Sunset Boulevard," said College Liberal pointing to the television.

On the television screen, Jennxpenn saw a man who looked remarkably like Ian from Smosh riding a horse down Sunset Boulevard alongside the same teenage boy, also riding on horseback, she saw ordering the attack on the Santa Monica pier.

"I'm assuming that is Georgie himself riding with his son," commented Jennxpenn with a disgusted look.

And behind the two men on horseback were their soldiers dressed in khaki, blue, and green uniforms, carrying Roman-style aquila (topped with eagles) and vexilla.

"Internexus vult!" shouted Emperor George as he led his son, his foot soldiers, and rows upon rows of jeeps and motorcycles down Sunset Boulevard.

"And if that wasn't enough, Georgie and his men often wear the types of helmets that the Germans like wearing when they were raping Belgians," remarked College Liberal as she took out her portable digital device.

Looking at the digital device, Jennxpenn saw College Liberal swiping her finger back and forth across the screen. College Liberal first showed images of historical German soldiers committing heinous war crimes while wearing Pickelhaube helmets, and then she displayed pictures of Emperor George's armies attacking innocent people as they proudly wore Pickelhaube helmets on their heads. As College Liberal compared the images of both the Germans and Emperor George's army on her digital device, Jennxpenn reached a revelation.

"Fucking Pickelhaube-wearing Nazis attacking civilians in the trenches," said Jennxpenn. "And Georgie was inspired by these horrible people in the past? Well to hell with the past if this is what he wants."

"Well said," said College Liberal. "Perhaps you would like to join me in rebelling against these men who have their asses stuck in the past. What do you say, my fellow woman?"

Jennxpenn was in deep thought over this offer. She looked at the television screen, with the news footage shifting from Emperor George's victory march on Sunset Boulevard to Strawburry17 and JoeyGraceffa leading a squadron of soldiers through traffic jams on the 405 Freeway.

"Even during an invasion, traffic jams remain a fact of life in Los Angeles," thought Jennxpenn.

Weaving their way between honking cars and frustrated drivers, Strawburry17 was showing Polaroid photographs to every car she happened to walk by. JoeyGraceffa was looking like he would rather be anywhere else. Jennxpenn didn't know why her friends would join the so-called Emperor of the Internet, though she was more concerned about Strawburry17 as JoeyGraceffa seemed more like the unwilling participant.

"Have you seen this girl? Have you seen this girl? Please help. We need to save her from her Plebeian ways and have Emperor George redeem her," spoke Strawburry17 as she showed the Polaroid pictures to the drivers stuck on the highway.

Jennxpenn looked closely at who was on the photographs, and she saw that it was herself with blonde hair and a smile.

"And to think I made popin cookin cakes with her," said Jennxpenn. She faced College Liberal with a determined look. "I've made my decision to join you against Georgie."

"Good. I think this is the beginning of a wonderful relationship," said a smiling College Liberal.

Back in the mattress store in the Mall of America, Jennxpenn was trying to drown out her flashback with lip-synching to Ellie Goulding's Figure 8, and she was extremely into the song as she was moaning with pleasure on the bed. Of course, her moment in heaven was interrupted by what appeared to be a group of people in blackface surrounding the bed she was lying in. This group of people was the three Internet Police agents and the prisoners they rescued.

"What the hell are you doing?!" shouted the Nerd, with black paint covering most of his glasses.

"What the hell are you doing?! You look like you're in an old fashioned minstrel show like in the bad old days," retorted Jennxpenn.

"Of course, she is in ecstasy while we're in the trenches," said HurricaneAubrey completely covered in black paint. "For your information little girl, I, the Critic, and the Nerd were preoccupied with shooting black paint onto the prisoners in order to prevent the Weathervanes from attacking them, with these politically correct lunatics believing that shooting the black-covered prisoners would be a subliminal message of wanting to kill blacks. Of course, we also took care of firing black paintballs onto the Weathervanes' white guns using the same logic the Critic used when he confronted the Weathervane wielding a knife with a black handle. I assume you remember what I told you about the Vienna mission, Jennxpenn."

"I forgot about that," said Jennxpenn with blunt honesty.

HurricaneAubrey gave a sigh as the Critic stepped in to explain what transpired next in the Mall of America.

"Most brilliantly, the three of us used white paintballs to completely whiten the Weathervanes. With their skin color and clothes now white, the Weathervanes began attacking each other with their fists as their guns were rendered black. Seizing this opportunity of confusion, we rescued the prisoners and brought them here as this was the nearest escape route," replied the Critic.

"And now we are here seeing what I assume is what your generation consider to be your idea of fun," said Jay.

"At least I'm not the one in blackface," said Jennxpenn in retaliation.

"Hey. It was either blackface or getting your privates removed by the Weathervanes," said Mike. "And I prefer the less permanent option."

Just then, the doors to the mattress store flung open as College Liberal led her Weathervanes through the mattress store. They were all holding paintball guns, and at once, they fired green paintballs at the Internet Police agents and the now-liberated prisoners. The Weathervanes also carried makeshift weapons in the form of golf clubs and tennis racquet.

"We've got you now! We know that no human has green skin. With green paint going to be covered over the bodies of our adversaries, we can offend nobody by attack your green bodies. For a more tolerant future!" shouted College Liberal lifting her golf club in the air.

The Weathervanes charged at the Internet Police agents and the liberated prisoners with green paintballs.

"Oh crap! We're out of paintballs!" yelled the Critic, knowing full well they were unable to defend themselves against a barrage of green paintballs.

"This way!" yelled HurricaneAubrey.

The Internet Police agents led the liberated prisoners through the main hallway of the Mall of America, and after dodging all of the green paintballs from the Weathervanes, the Internet Police agents found themselves in a soon to be opened store called Americana. The store Americana was divided into aisles and sections, each with merchandising related to a particular state in America. For example, the New York section had Statue of Liberty snow globes, Empire State Building pencil sharpeners, and miniature yellow taxi cabs. Another section had Pennsylvania represented by Liberty Bell refrigerator magnets, Rocky memorabilia, and models of Amish buggies. New Yorker HurricaneAubrey beamed with pride and Pennsylvanian Jennxpenn grimaced at how their home states were represented. Before the Nerd and the Critic could contemplate how they felt about their home states of New Jersey and Illinois respectively, they heard the Weathervanes bursting into the store.

"We got you now!" shouted College Liberal. "Prepare to feel the wrath of the green!"

"Jennxpenn! Stay here and guard these civilians," commanded the Critic. "HurricaneAubrey and the Nerd, follow me!"

"But….," stammered Jennxpenn as she saw the Critic, the Nerd, and HurricaneAubrey leave to confront the Weathervanes.

With the civilians safely hidden in the Pennsylvania section, the Critic, the Nerd, and HurricaneAubrey encountered the Weathervanes in the California section of Americana.

"Fire!" yelled the Weathervanes as they unleashed a barrage of green paintballs at the three Internet Police agents.

The three Internet Police agents hid behind a large chocolate replica of the Golden Gate Bridge, and as the brown-colored Golden Gate Bridge was being covered in green paint, the three Internet Police agents saw golf clubs and tennis racquets being thrown at the bridge, with all the projectiles hitting the green parts of the delicacy.

"We can't let any green paintballs touch us, or else we'll be given a hole in one of our skulls," commented the Nerd.

"Or getting love from those tennis racquets," said HurricaneAubrey as she saw the oval-shaped tennis racquets striking the Golden Gate Bridge. "What should we do Critic?"

"Follow my lead," said the Critic as he briefly emerged from behind the Golden Gate Bridge.

The Weathervanes shot several green paintballs at the Critic, missing him every time as he ducked behind the Golden Gate Bridge.

"Hey College Liberal and your Weathervanes buddies! You're probably offended by the consumption of good old fashion American hamburgers and hot dogs," said the Critic.

"Of course we are! Meat is murder!" shouted the Weathervanes.

"If you're animal lovers, then why would you cover us in green paint just so that you could beat us up? You do realize that broccoli and cabbages are green, and if you attack us while we're wearing green paint, then you're suggesting that eating fruits and vegetables is immoral compared to eating meat," said the Critic.

College Liberal and the Weathervanes looked discouraged, and as a result, they removed the green paint from the paintball guns. They decided to place red paint into their guns.

"Oh now you're going to offend Native Americans by hunting us down after shooting red paint at us," commented the Nerd.

Frustrated, the Weathervanes switched out the red paint with blue paint.

"Just great. You're against the rivers and oceans of the world. If you hurt us while we're covered in blue paint, then you are signaling that you want to pollute an environment containing your precious fishes and dolphins," said HurricaneAubrey.

College Liberal and her Weathervanes were at a loss of words.

"Keep up the pace," said the Critic. "At this rate, we'll defeat the Weathervanes with patience and logic."

HurricaneAubrey smiled at the Critic's intelligence in handling this delicate situation. Alas, her apprentice ruined the Critic's plans as she was speeding on her segway rather than guarding the liberated prisoners.

"Less philosophical debating and more fighting!" shouted Jennxpenn as she swung a baseball bat at College Liberal.

HurricaneAubrey moaned as the baseball bat missed College Liberal entirely as the bat flew out of Jennxpenn's hands.

"She's a blonde WASP. Get her!" screamed College Liberal to her Weathervane army.

"I'm of Irish descent!" shouted Jennxpenn, not that it mattered to the Weathervanes as they pursued the only person not covered in paint.

The three Internet Police agents saw as Jennxpenn was being chased by the Weathervane army wielding golf clubs and tennis racquets.

"What happened between us Jennxpenn?!" shouted College Liberal. "We used to be BFFs back in Los Angeles. And now we're sworn enemies in the Mall of America."

Jennxpenn continued driving her segway through the aisles of American states.

"Why Jennxpenn? Why did you leave me? Was it because you were against the castration of the entire male population? Or was it because you accuse me of having an unhealthy admiration of Roxy Harmon? Which one of these reasons was it? Answer me, Jennxpenn!" screamed College Liberal.

All Jennxpenn could do was ride her segway as she couldn't drive and engage in an intellectual debate with College Liberal. Eventually, Jennxpenn reached the Minnesota section of the store.

"Great," said Jennxpenn sarcastically. "Well at least I lost the Weathervanes."

It was obvious that the Minnesota section was the largest. There were wooden statues of Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox as well as camping equipment spread about. Jennxpenn was staring at a seesaw with a massive Babe the Blue Ox occupying one end. Next to the seesaw was a row of Paul Bunyan statues getting progressively larger from left to right. She then saw the Weathervanes catch up to her.

"Guess this is goodbye then," said College Liberal.

At the sight of the Weathervanes charging at her, Jennxpenn accidentally drove her segway right into the small Paul Bunyan statue. As dictated by domino theory, the small Paul Bunyan statue knocked into the slightly larger Paul Bunyan statue, which in turn struck the next statue. Eventually, the result of this domino theory led to the gargantuan Paul Bunyan statue to fall right onto the seesaw, which propelled the gigantic Babe the Blue Ox statue into the air and straight through the glass ceiling. It appeared that a massive snowstorm had occurred right after the Critic, the Nerd, and HurricaneAubrey invaded the Mall of America, and thus, an avalanche of snow fell through the hole created by a flying Babe the Blue ox.

"Oh fiddlesticks," commented College Liberal as snow began covering her and the Weathervanes.

Jennxpenn rode her segway through the aisles as snow was piling into Americana. She managed to escape being engulfed by this deluge of snow.

"I did it," said Jennxpenn, who was sweating despite being surrounded by snow and chilly winds.

In the end, College Liberal and her Weathervanes were placed under arrest by the Internet Police agents, and despite the ensuring blizzard happening outside the Mall of America, the liberated prisoners preferred to wait outside for their loved ones rather than stick around in the mall where they had been enslaved by the Weathervanes. All involved parties were cleansed of paint. With cups of hot chocolate being offered to the liberated prisoners, the Internet Police agents were conducting themselves differently in the aftermath of the Mall of America hostage crisis. The Critic and the Nerd were busy interrogating the Weathervanes in regards to the whereabouts of the remaining Weathervane members. Jennxpenn, standing on a bench, was busy retelling her heroics on the battlefield to an interested group of liberated prisoners. And HurricaneAubrey was seething with rage as she drank her hot chocolate, trying her best to not confront Jennxpenn in a violent manner.

"So the two men with glasses and the brunette woman were desperately hiding behind the chocolate replica of the Golden Gate Bridge when I bravely charged at the Weathervanes with my segway. They were certainly frightened at my presence when I swung my baseball bat at them. If I wasn't there, then the Weathervanes would have surely overwhelmed them," said Jennxpenn with swagger.

HurricaneAubrey's grip on her hot chocolate was tightening as she watched Jennxpenn continue relating her tale of triumph over the Weathervanes to the excited crowd.

"With the Weathervanes in a dazed and confused state, I led them to a seesaw with a large ox statue at its end, and through my own brilliance, I pushed a row of Paul Bunyan statues right onto the unoccupied end of the seesaw and launched the ox right through the glass ceiling. This caused a pile of snow to fall directly onto the Weathervanes, rendering them unconscious in the process. And this was pretty much how I saved all of you from these uncool Weathervanes," said Jennxpenn as she drank her hot chocolate. She then held her hot chocolate like a goblet as she shouted triumphantly. "To Jennxpenn!"

"To Jennxpenn!" yelled the crowd as they chugged down their hot chocolate.

With her newfound temper seemingly insulating her from the Minnesotan winter, HurricaneAubrey threw her remaining cup of hot chocolate onto the snow, promptly melting a significant portion of the snowy ground.

"Keep it together. We won and saved these people. That's what matters," thought HurricaneAubrey.

Jennxpenn stepped off the bench, and was about to sign autographs from her admirers when Mike and Jay barged in.

"It seems rather odd that you would call yourself heroic when you abandoned us despite being given explicit orders by your superiors to remain with us," said Mike. "I think the rest of us are forgetting that little detail."

HurricaneAubrey's spirit lifted when she heard murmuring amongst the liberated prisoners.

"I have unorthodox ways of conducting rescue missions," said a defensive Jennxpenn.

"Like lip-synching to whatever music your generation listens to during a hostage crisis," said Jay. "I also think you're not being 100% honest with us based on how your completely disregard the contribution of your fellow officers."

"You know what. I don't have time for people like you. I think you two should go back to your state of cheeses and beers if you want a fight with me. If it wasn't for me, then you would have had your manhood removed by the Weathervanes. I think I'll let democracy decide if I'm telling the truth or not. Now if you'll excuse me, I need some rest and relaxation after saving all of you," said Jennxpenn.

As Jennxpenn headed away, HurricaneAubrey saw that the liberated prisoners were dissenting amongst themselves whether or not Jennxpenn's story was exaggerated, with only a minority of them siding with Mike and Jay. With a considerable distance between Jennxpenn and the liberated prisoners, HurricaneAubrey confronted the blonde Internet Police agent.

"I suppose you forget to tell them that I, the Critic, and the Nerd had to face actual bullets when dealing with the Weathervanes while you were singing and dancing in the mattress store. If we hadn't painted their machine guns white, then you would have faced them on your joyride with the segway. You would surely have died if it wasn't for the Critic, the Nerd, and me," said HurricaneAubrey through gritted teeth. "And worst of all, we wouldn't have risked our lives in capturing the Weathervanes if you had properly done your duty of protecting the mall in the first place."

"Shut up. You're just jealous that I defeated the Weathervanes once and for all while you three were busy holding political forums rather than beating the shit out of them. I think we all know who the best agent is of all time is," countered Jennxpenn.

"You're so egotistical and full of yourself!" yelled HurricaneAubrey. "You don't know what real fighting involves. The Weathervanes are upstarts compared to what I faced. I recall that you were recruited by the Chief because of your rebellious work at the San Diego Comic-Con. But that was when Henry Zazz's army was armed with only tranquilizer guns, so you didn't have to encounter the helicopters, biplanes, jeeps, and motorcycles that accompanied George Zazz's formal army."

"I think you're forgetting the cattle prods and flamethrowers I had to dodge in San Diego," interjected Jennxpenn. "And what about the rifles used by the Oregon Trail pioneers?"

"Those weapons are nothing compared to the real machine guns I faced when dealing with Fred Figglehorn's armies in the Second War and against George Zazz's armies in the Great Schism of America. And I recall that you left the rebellion during the Great Schism when the actual killings happened. So don't you dare call yourself the best Internet Police agent of all time considering your mediocrity and dumb luck," said HurricaneAubrey.

"What's going on here?" asked a concerned Critic.

Jennxpenn and HurricaneAubrey saw the Critic and Nerd approach them.

"I'm just trying deal with Jennxpenn's inflated ego. She thinks she is the best agent of all time and that she singlehandedly took down the Weathervanes in the Mall of America," said HurricaneAubrey.

"I'm just trying to deal with a bitch who thinks combat training involves insomnia-inducing trips to art and history museums," said Jennxpenn. "I thought Internet Police fighting just involved punching and shooting, not having a polite conversation over a cup of tea."

"Look. We have enough on our hands right now. We're just about to rid America of the Weathervanes, and we just received word of increased mafia activity throughout Europe," said the Nerd. "The Critic and I don't have time dealing with your squabbles."

"HurricaneAubrey, I would suggest that you take your apprentice to dinner and a movie in settling your differences," suggested the Critic. "It worked for you and me in Tokyo."

The Critic then focused his attention on Jennxpenn.

"Listen rookie, I think you should avoid overestimating your talents at this point. And you certainly don't want to cause unnecessary drama with your Internet Police acquaintances. We have enough turmoil within the Internet Police organization since the mass exodus led by Hardcore Kid," said the Critic.

"No thanks to you," replied HurricaneAubrey to Jennxpenn.

The Critic ignored HurricaneAubrey's outburst.

"The point is, you need to get along with your fellow Internet Police agents and stop undervaluing their contribution to defending the internet from the scum of the web, preparing for the unpredictable, and fulfilling the will of the internet," said the Critic.

"I suppose you mean Internexus Vult for that last item, a statement used by George Zazz during his rampage across America during the Great Schism," said Jennxpenn. "I recall that you, the Nerd, and HurricaneAubrey had sympathies for Georgie and his plans for America. I, on the other hand, was against Georgie from the very beginning. So how can I become true friends with any other Internet Police agents, especially HurricaneAubrey, if they still harbor some loyalty towards Georgie?"

Jennxpenn started walking away from HurricaneAubrey, the Critic, and the Nerd.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do right now," said Jennxpenn as she walked away while rolling her eyes.

The remaining three Internet Police agents didn't know what to do next.

"Anyone wants some more hot chocolate?" said the Nerd.

The Critic and HurricaneAubrey nodded. With the three Internet Police agents once again drinking hot chocolate, the Critic decided to comment on their dilemma.

"Do you remember how Blues Brothers 2000 started with Elwood Blues finding out that the orphanage he saved in the first movie was gone and that his brother Jake has died? Didn't you just love how Blues Brothers 2000 rendered the conclusion of the first movie completely in vain?" remarked the Critic sipping hot chocolate.

The Nerd and HurricaneAubrey drank their hot chocolate in silence, signaling their agreement with the Critic's statement.

"I thought this type of plot only existed in shitty sequels, but now it appears to be happening in real life right now," said the Critic. "Maybe I'm just being pessimistic."

"Perhaps things can get better," said the Nerd as he lifted his hot chocolate into the air. "To the three of us."

"To the three of us," said the Critic and HurricaneAubrey as they clinked their Styrofoam cups of hot chocolate with the Nerd's cup.

The three Internet Police agents smiled at each other in unison. They had some reasons to remain optimistic. The month of January involved the absolute destruction of the Weathervanes in Vienna and in the Mall of America. Despite some setbacks, the three Internet Police agents were confident they could take on any other challenges that awaited them in the coming months. So far, this year has been memorable, and hopefully, this would be the year where the Internet Police could be restored to its former glory. HurricaneAubrey saw that a car was passing by the three of them, with Jennxpenn in the driver's seat.

"So my late New Year's resolution is to try to forge a friendship between me and Jennxpenn for the good of the Internet Police," thought HurricaneAubrey.

 **Please review this story to provide me some advice on improving it. What other internet personalities or memes should the Internet Police encounter?**


	3. Prey Part 1

**I do not own any of the internet personalities or memes presented in this story.**

The Internet Police: Year in Review

Prey, Part 1

February was the shortest month of the year, even when accounting for the extra days added during leap years. The month of February was based on a Latin term for purification, in reference to a Roman purification ritual that occurred around February. For the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd, they knew that purification involved driving out evil spirits, and on Groundhog Day in February, the Critic and Nerd were in their new Boston offices trying to solve cases as a means of purifying the world in their own manner.

"I just received a report from Punxsutawney Phil. In his infinite wisdom, he concluded that there will six more weeks of winter," stated the Critic using a video phone to communicate with the Nerd.

"Guess we'll be experiencing the harsh winds of winter before the calmness of spring," commented the Nerd through a video phone. "Now what case are you working on now? The rumored War of European Succession or the mysterious signals coming from Idaho."

"The mysterious signals coming out of Idaho," said the Critic. "The rumored War of European Succession is just that. A rumor."

"I don't think the War of European Succession is a rumor. I am tracking increased mafia activity throughout the European continent. I fear this is a prelude to something disastrous in the coming months, something like a war on a scale not seen since World War II," said the Nerd.

"You're being paranoid," said the Critic. "I'm sure the Europeans can handle it on their own. We have more pressing matters in America. I think we should concentrate all our attention on interpreting the signals coming from a place that is unquestionably American. Do you agree?"

"I agree Critic," said the Nerd, who realized that the Critic wasn't interested in a potential war in Europe.

As the Critic was sending the latest information regarding the Idaho signals, the Nerd couldn't help but think about why the Critic didn't want to discuss the War of European Succession any further.

"Well what do you make of these lines of dots and dashes?" interjected the Critic.

"... - ...," read the Nerd.

The Nerd then proceeded to read another line from the signals.

"- . -. - .-. .- .-. .-. . -.. .- - -.-. .-. .- - . .-. ... - ..-. - ... . - - - -. -. .- - .. - -. .- .-.. - - -. ..- - . -. -," read the Nerd.

"What does it mean?" questioned the Critic.

"Probably where the signal is coming from within Idaho," said the Nerd. "It's going to be a bitch trying to decrypt the message."

"Better get started then," said the Critic. "I'll be here to help you."

"Thanks Critic," said the Nerd.

As the Nerd and Critic were preoccupied with interpreting the signals, HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn were eating at a fancy Italian restaurant situated in Boston's North End. HurricaneAubrey was consuming chicken parmesan while Jennxpenn was having the chicken alfredo, with Vivaldi's Winter being played by live violinists in the background. While HurricaneAubrey appeared to be heaven as she handled her fork and knife gracefully, Jennxpenn felt like she would rather be anywhere else. And Jennxpenn was eating her chicken alfredo in her own way: using her hands as she chugged wine down her throat.

"Really?!" whispered an outraged HurricaneAubrey. "Everyone is staring at us."

Jennxpenn paused in the middle of eating her chicken alfredo to scan the restaurant for any wandering eyes. Much to her pleasure, she saw that everyone in the restaurant was staring at her.

"Whatever," said Jennxpenn as she held a pasta string with her fingers, holding the pasta up the air as she opened her mouth to consume it.

As Jennxpenn was handling the chicken with the same method as the pasta, HurricaneAubrey tried not to feel embarrassment as she delicately used her knife and fork to tear apart the chicken on her dish. She was listening to Vivaldi's Winter, and the first thing that came to her mind was her little sister Allison practicing the piece within the greatest cities of Europe. HurricaneAubrey wished she could be with Allison in Europe, discussing the deeper meanings and interpretations behind Vivaldi's music rather than babysitting a blonde baby in a restaurant.

"What I would give to be with my little sister in Europe than here?" thought HurricaneAubrey as she sipped her glass of wine.

"More wine," asked a waiter who looked like Stephen Merchant. "My name is Leslie Higgins, and I'll be your new waiter for tonight."

"Of course," said HurricaneAubrey. "I need more to get me through this terrible evening. What do you recommend?"

"I recommend De Grave. It is a wine that is to die for. Not that you want to literally die," said Leslie awkwardly in a distinctly Bristolian accent. "How about I just give you Sangiovese wine?"

"Sure," said HurricaneAubrey as Leslie poured Sangiovese wine for both her and Jennxpenn, with the blonde woman now preoccupied with her portable device. HurricaneAubrey drank some of the Sangiovese wine before having an epiphany. "Wait. Don't I know you from somewhere?"

Occasionally, Jennxpenn looked up from her personal device to see what was going on around her. She saw that HurricaneAubrey seem to be personally invested in figuring out their waiter's personal information. Why she had no idea? She saw Leslie touching his glasses out of nervousness before he proceeded to answer HurricaneAubrey's question.

"Uhh… I'm just a waiter named Leslie Higgins, a human male who came to Boston after being a personal butler in Las Vegas. I dealt with many interesting clients during my time in Las Vegas. The most interesting were three couples that had me involved in shenanigans involving a doggy maid, Cuban cigars, romantic bubble baths, and Scottish strippers. It really happened," insisted Leslie.

HurricaneAubrey stared at Leslie with suspicion, though more the fact that she sensed there was something more to him than meets the eye than the validity of his past in Las Vegas.

"How about I get you some more breadsticks?" said Leslie.

Leslie hastily walked away to supposedly fetch some more breadsticks. In reality, he went to a table where a military soldier was sitting at. Compared with Leslie's timid and humble appearance like a meek English schoolboy, the soldier the waiter was meeting just screamed confidence and strength by his posture and how he spoke like a cocky American soldier.

"Quick! What's the situation?!" spoke the grizzled soldier without pause or hesitation.

"It's uhhh….tense and complicated," said Leslie nervously. "Rick, I think we need to take action."

"Can't you be more blunt and specific?" said Rick the American soldier.

"I just said we might have to do something to ease tensions between HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn," said Leslie.

"Don't say we think. Say we absolutely should do something," said Rick with confidence. "Now what do you think we should do?"

Leslie fully understood that Rick was testing him on his decision-making skills. He was sweating at the prospect.

"Well?" said Rick as he was tapping the table with his fingers. "We weren't sent by the Internet Police just to watch HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn tear each other apart."

Leslie closed his eyes as he was thinking heavily, and he might have found a decent enough solution if not for a loud outburst that came from the table he was supposed to be helping.

"You just so unbelievable!" screamed Jennxpenn. "How could you defend your little sister for wanting to play Vivaldi's crap music? I saw how she suffered on Utopia Island when she was forced to play classical music. Did you not see how she intentionally bruised herself when she didn't meet Georgie's unrealistic standards? Well I'm not surprised considering how you supported this monster from the start?"

Everyone in the restaurant was staring at two women. These two women were standing up from their chairs as they shouted at each other across the table.

"How dare you accuse me of abusing my little sister?!" shouted an outraged HurricaneAubrey. "I will be human enough to admit I was wrong to place my trust in George Zazz, which inadvertently led my little sister to be subjected to the cruelties of Utopia Island. But I only did so when I saw the horrors of the Second War in Colorado, leading to my personal start of darkness in joining George Zazz's organization. And still, who was one of the many participants who revealed everything wrong with George Zazz, from his history to Utopia Island itself? I was one of those rebels who actually did something. And my little sister knows it as I saved her from being lobotomized on the Island of the Misfits. So don't you dare perceive me as an unredeemable monster!"

"I started rebelling against Georgie long before it was popular to do so," said Jennxpenn. "So I have the moral high ground."

"You were in a rebellion group led by College Liberal, and we all knew how she turned out in the long run," said HurricaneAubrey. "She was no different than Oliver Costa. The enemy of my enemy is not my friend."

"I did have the decency to leave," said Jennxpenn.

"Why did you leave her Weathervanes during the Great Schism?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"I have my reasons," said Jennxpenn uncomfortably.

HurricaneAubrey's eyes squinted as she looked at Jennxpenn's obvious appearance of hiding something. HurricaneAubrey widened her eyes as she proceeded to ask more questions about Jennxpenn's past.

"Why didn't you join another rebellion against George Zazz that was more appropriate? Or were you afraid of facing real warfare when the actual bloodshed started happening? Think about that the next time you call yourself the best agent of all time," said HurricaneAubrey.

HurricaneAubrey sat back in her chair looking as if she ran a marathon. Jennxpenn got back in her chair as well.

"Well I think the situation has calmed back down," said Leslie feeling relieved.

"Don't count on it," said Rick as he picked up a knife. "We're just in the eye of the hurricane, and I'm not sure which hurricane is more terrifying to face."

Just as Rick predicted, the ceasefire between HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn didn't last long before Jennxpenn asked a question that would reignite the conflict.

"Why did we start that massive argument in the first place?" questioned Jennxpenn.

"To quote your insulting words exactly, you said 'I hate this Italian restaurant for being fancy-smancy, and I wouldn't be here if Italy never existed. I hate these Italians with their mediocre food, horrible artwork, and constant complaining.' When I brought up Vivaldi's brilliant music as an example of Italian accomplishments and how I am proud of my sister Allison for playing it, you said that Vivaldi's music was crap," said HurricaneAubrey angrily. "You do realize that I'm an Italian American."

"No wonder you're such a bitch," said Jennxpenn as she placed her feet upon the table.

HurricaneAubrey got up from her table just as Jennxpenn stood up as well. Apparently, the storm returned as HurricaneAubrey began yelling at Jennxpenn for being so immature and disrespectful, and unbeknownst to her, the other occupants of the restaurant were recording this confrontation on their portable devices.

"There's only one thing to do," said Rick as he deduced that the spectators were uploading the live footage of HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn's fight onto the internet. "And I'm going to need your help, Leslie."

"What do you want me to….?" began Leslie as he being dragged by Rick.

Leslie saw that Rick was holding a knife in his other hand.

"I don't like where this is going," said Leslie.

"Like I said, I'm the best agent ever," said Jennxpenn.

"Oh please! You're not the best at eating properly, much less being the best agent in the…" said HurricaneAubrey before being distracted by two figures approaching them.

HurricaneAubrey saw that Leslie was being dragged by a tough-looking man to their table. HurricaneAubrey's attention was away from criticizing Jennxpenn.

"Did you get the breadsticks, Leslie?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"Leslie did not get the breadsticks. However, we have something better," said Rick.

Everyone in the restaurant was now staring at this American as he held the hand of a British waiter.

"My name is Rick, the all-American soldier. We're going to give you the fastest version of the knife game you have ever seen," said Rick. "And I'm going to use this British waiter as my volunteer for this trick."

"Wait what?!" shouted Leslie as his hand was placed flat on the table, with his wrist being held firmly in place by Rick's hand.

"Don't be such a bitch," said Rick. He then showed the spectators an extremely sharp knife. "Let us begin."

Rick moved the knife between Leslie's fingers slowly. Leslie was smiling nervously, believing that Rick wouldn't be reckless enough to quicken the speed of the knife. Unfortunately for Leslie, Rick began accelerating the speed of the knife to the excitement of the spectators recording the incident on their portable devices. Faster and faster the knife went. Leslie had his eyes bulging out of his sockets as his mouth was wide open.

"Ahhhhhh!" screamed Leslie as Rick continued moving the knife between his fingers.

The crowd continued cheering and clapping as Rick moved the knife between Leslie's fingers to such a high speed that they could only see blurs representing the knife and Rick's hand. Luckily, Leslie's hand appeared to be intact.

"I think I have beaten the world record!" shouted Rick to a terrified Leslie. "I think our mission has been accomplished, Leslie."

There is a saying that all good things must come to an end, and unfortunately for Rick and his admirers, it came in the form of a knife being impaled right in the middle of Leslie's hand.

"Owwwwww!" cried Leslie as blood was coming out of his hand.

Rick saw that Leslie was bleeding out milky, white blood, but nobody else seemed to have notice as they only saw a version of the knife game gone horrifyingly wrong. Rick removed the knife from Leslie's hand, quickly wrapping the bloodied hand with a tablecloth.

"You two ladies! Help me escort Wheatley to our parked car," said Rick to Jennxpenn and HurricaneAubrey.

At once, the two Internet Police ladies assisted Rick in carrying the British waiter out of the restaurant, moving past the spectators who continued recording despite what had just happened. Soon, HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn placed Leslie into the passenger seat of a car belonging to Rick, and with the two Internet Police ladies in the passenger seats, Rick began driving the car away from the restaurant, hopefully to the nearest hospital.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" shouted Jennxpenn. "You two men must be insane. Totally awesome, but still fucking insane."

"You do realize that I didn't want to do this crazy stunt in the first place," said Leslie recoiling in pain.

"At least we distracted the other customers from your explosive argument with HurricaneAubrey," said Rick.

"Can we at least do it without resulting in my bloody hand getting bloodied?" insisted Leslie.

Jennxpenn looked to see what HurricaneAubrey thought about this strange turn of events, but much to her amazement, HurricaneAubrey had a stoic expression on her face.

"I don't need you two mechanical spheres to babysit me. I was handling the situation well enough on my own," said HurricaneAubrey calmly.

"What?" said Jennxpenn. "Are you dumb as you are bitchy? These two men aren't circular thingys."

"I know now that Leslie is really Wheatley, the blue-eyed Bristolian mechanical sphere. It took me a while to recognize his voice, and Leslie's artificial white blood and Rick (I know it is really you from your gruff American accent) shouting out Wheatley's name out loud really gave it away," commented HurricaneAubrey.

"Having recently been given increased mobility in newly constructed human forms, the Critic and the Nerd thought it would be a good idea for us to practice infiltration skills by monitoring your dinner with Jennxpenn," said Rick. "And I can tell that you ladies caused a lot of trouble for the both of us. At least we managed to salvage your catastrophic dinner with a little knife game to entertain the masses."

HurricaneAubrey saw Jennxpenn take out her portable device to watch the latest videos trending on the internet. The most popular video tonight was a clip titled Epic Knife Game Fail. Wheatley, dropping his persona of Leslie, saw the exact moment the knife was plunged into his hand. And he saw Jennxpenn continuing to scroll down a list of videos containing variations of Epic Knife Game Fail, including music videos and parodies. With the instantaneous speed of communication over the internet, Wheatley saw that this embarrassing moment in his artificial life would be seen by millions of people by now, and that it would remain in their collective memories forever.

"At least the trending internet video isn't Two Chicks Fighting in a Restaurant," said Rick. "And not even the hot type of fighting."

"The things I do because of women," said Wheatley still moaning in pain. "Rick, can you drive faster back to the Internet Police Complex so that I can get my fluids replaced before I involuntarily shut down?"

"I'm driving over the speed limit, Englishman. I don't understand why you were compelled to add the sensation of feeling pain to your human body," said Rick.

"Because I wanted to be more human," said Wheatley. "I wanted to feel all the pleasures of eating and crying at Shakespearean tragedies like a human."

"Being human is overrated. Just ask HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn," said Rick as he looked through his rearview mirror at the two Internet Police ladies looking at each other with enmity.

Phil, the Oracle of Punxsutawney, had correctly predicted that there would be six more weeks of winter. In the cold days before Valentine's Day, the Critic and Nerd, in their respective Internet Police offices, had set aside the disorganized dots and dashes to investigate a recent disappearance from Yellowstone National Park.

"Apparently, eyewitnesses saw a man with braces dressed in a plaid sweater vest attempting to have a romantic date alongside Old Faithful. And as luck would have it, the geyser didn't erupt at its scheduled time. The man's girlfriend got so frustrated that she broke up with him on the spot, and just as the girlfriend was out of his sight, the geyser happened to blow up, prompting the man to curse his bad luck according to spectators," said the Nerd to the Critic via a video phone. "Do you recognize who this man is?"

The Critic took a look at the video clip of the Yellowstone incident, and he immediately recognized the unlucky man.

"That's Bad Luck Brian. The unluckiest man in the world," said the Critic. "After a voluntary stint in the Internet Police's Asylum, he decided to try to live his life without risking his safety and sanity with a lucky potion. And we haven't heard of him since….until now."

"I think he is connected to the mysterious signals coming from Idaho," said the Nerd. "And I haven't even mentioned how he was kidnapped by an insane woman."

The Critic looked at the footage of Brian Kyle, Bad Luck Brian's real name, having a romantic dinner with a woman within Yellowstone National Park.

"I got this footage from a research camera intended to capture the mating patterns of bears. I think the researchers got more than they bargained for when observing the mating ritual of a desperate human male and a loony human female," commented the Nerd.

Despite the Critic not being a love guru, he could still tell that Brian's dating skills were horrendous. From the location of the dinner table being near roaring bears to the meals consisting of microwavable Hot Pockets, the Critic found it surprising that Brian's new girlfriend didn't dump him on the spot like the girlfriend at Old Faithful. The girlfriend's face was in the shadows as Brian was retelling his time when he was a wealthy man in Las Vegas.

"I was swimming in wealth when I was in Las Vegas, and I did it because of my own hard work and determination," said Brian over the sounds of bears roaring in the background. "Do you believe me?"

The Critic and the Nerd knew full well that Bad Luck Brian only became rich in Las Vegas due to a lucky potion known as Felix Felicis. By using the liquid substance, he was able to gamble his way to wealth with an unbroken streak of good luck. Alas for Brian, the potion caused him to do reckless activities that undermined his extraordinary luck, the most damaging of which was getting involved with a mafia gang led by a literal baby godfather. After losing all of his fortune to the IRS and a brief stay in the Internet Police Asylum, Brian was trying to reinvent himself.

"Why is Brian lying to this girl about his time in Las Vegas?" asked the Nerd.

"Because he doesn't want to be seen as a pathetic loser," said the Critic. "Having seen countless movies, I know that he will eventually be exposed as a liar, and as a result, the girlfriend will dump his ass. I know that the liar reveal plot will rear its ugly head pretty soon for Bad Luck Brian."

Brian was eating his cold Hot Pocket as the girlfriend was looking down at her portable device, and started speaking in a hyper voice.

"Funny. I see right her on my device that you stated that you got your wealth from being the luckiest man in the world, and not from any form of hard work. And delving deeper into your story, it appeared that you use a lucky potion to get your vast fortune from slot machines and roulette tables," said the girlfriend. "Are you lying to me?"

"Sooner than I expected," said the Critic looking unsurprised. "Now cue Brian stammering as he tries to come up with an illogical explanation."

Brian was sweating profusely as inarticulate words were coming out of his mouth.

"I thought…. I mean…. I wanted to impress you as a hard-working man rather than a man who screams at the first sight of danger," said Brian.

In the distance, wolves were howling, prompting Brian to give out a girly scream.

"I know where this is going," said the Critic. "The girlfriend will dump him, and there will be a lot of mopping and doping between the two of them, and then Brian will have a revelation that will cause him to return back to the girlfriend. Of course, this is real life and not some clichéd romantic comedy film, and also accounting with how unlucky Brian is, the girlfriend will reject him."

The Critic then remembered that the Nerd mentioned something about Brian being kidnapped by this woman.

"How could the liar revealed plotline work if there is a kidnapping involved in the end?" thought the Critic.

The girlfriend answered the Critic's question when she spoke to Brian in an understanding manner.

"I don't care that you lied to me, I still love you," said the girlfriend as she he face came out of the shadows.

The Critic gave a gasp as the girlfriend revealed herself to be Hyper Fangirl.

"Old friend of yours, Critic?" asked the Nerd who noticed the Critic's horrified face on the video phone.

"She was an old friend of mine if you consider the definition of an old friend being someone who stalks you and forces you to go on a romantic date while having a machine gun pointed at your back," said the Critic. "What does she see in Bad Luck Brian?"

"I want you to kiss me as if you are the Nostalgia Critic," said Hyper Fangirl through her large glasses. "Come on, kiss me you hunk."

"Guess I am lucky after all," said Brian. "Should I do with tongue in or out?"

"Whatever pleases you my man?" said Hyper Fangirl with an adorable smile that the Critic knew hid her craziness.

Bad Luck Brian leaned in to kiss Hyper Fangirl. Little did he know that his kiss would be with a chloroform cloth as Hyper Fangirl forced the rag onto Brian's face.

"Got to get him back to Overly Attached Girlfriend. She will know what to do with him. She probably wouldn't want him after their shitty date with each other, but maybe he'll be fit for some other desperate teenage girl. I wouldn't want to marry this unlucky loser" said Hyper Fangirl as she stuffed the knocked out Brian into a truck. "Who knows? Maybe I'll even be rewarded for apprehending Bad Luck Brian by Overly Attached Girlfriend. She'll be able to grant my wish of getting the man of my dreams: The Nostalgia Critic."

As Hyper Fangirl gave a passionate sigh at mentioning the Critic's name, the Critic stopped the Yellowstone footage at once, with the Critic trying his best not to vomit.

"So what does any of this have to do with the mysterious signals from Idaho?" said the Critic.

"I recently found out that signals are coming from an area close to where Bad Luck Brian was kidnapped. He must have typed those dots and dashes," said the Nerd.

"Why wouldn't he have written in plain English where he was located and who kidnapped him?" questioned the Critic.

"Because he didn't want to risk exposing his true intentions to his kidnappers. If I were to hazard a guess, Overly Attached Girlfriend and her teenage accomplices would only see these dots and dashes as mad ravings of a man whose unluckiness has sapped him of his sanity," said the Nerd.

"Then we better find out where he and any other victims of Overly Attached Girlfriend are being held before they find out his plot to escape," said the Critic.

"Agreed," said the Nerd. "And I have two more individuals who can help us."

"Who?" asked the Critic.

The Nerd simply looked past the Critic towards two figures standing behind the man in a black cap, a red tie, a white shirt underneath a black jacket, and blue jeans. One of the figures was a man dressed in American military fatigues. The other figure was a bespectacled man wearing a blue tie, white dress shirt, and black dress pants, and one of his hands was covered by several bandages as a result of a recent knife injury.

"Are you really prepared to help us in interpreting these dots and dashes Rick and Wheatley?" questioned the Critic.

"Yes Sir!" shouted Rick as he gave a military salute.

"Hopefully this will be less painful than the Knife Game," said Wheatley as he was rubbing his bandaged hand.

At the same time that Wheatley and Rick were squinting at the dots and dashes sent by Bad Luck Brian, HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn were sitting on a couch in front of a television. HurricaneAubrey was eating her bowl of popcorn as she was heavily engaged to the movie playing on screen. The film was called RACHEL directed by Abed Nadir and produced by the Public Broadcasting Service. Shown at several renowned film festivals including Sundance and South by Southwest, RACHEL is about a filmmaker named Rachel who is making a movie about Joan of Arc. Rachel's planned movie is about the filmmaker Joan of Arc trying to find God through her medieval camera. But then Rachel the filmmaker finds out that she is actually Joan of Arc, and that she is being filmed by God's camera. Thus, all the filmmakers are Joan of Arc and all the cameras are God, creating a meta-film for the post-postmodern world.

"And Rachel the filmmaker a.k.a. Joan of Arc is played by Rachel from the Band of Siblings, who I fought alongside during the Second War and during the Great Schism of America," thought HurricaneAubrey as she smiled during a scene when modern-day Rachel kneeling before a film camera as sunlight was shining through the windows of her small film studio.

Intercut between modern Rachel was medieval Rachel (dressed up like Joan of Arc) praying before a crucifix atop an altar, with sunlight piercing through a cathedral's stain-glass windows. And the film was switching back and forth between the medieval period and the modern world, with only Rachel and light remaining constant.

"Do you see the brilliance of this film, Jennxpenn?" spoke HurricaneAubrey as she was weeping at the scene. "Right now, modern Rachel is lamenting having her film being shut down by rival English filmmakers. Juxtaposed with modern Rachel's filmmaking problems are medieval Rachel's troubles of beating back the English armies ravaging the French countryside. And they are both praying for a resolution to their problems. Based on this scene, I can interpret that RACHEL is about how humans share the same hopes, dreams, and fears throughout history, and that a change in clothing and technology hasn't altered our humanity. Isn't that such a profound revelation?!"

"I'm sorry what?" said Jennxpenn as she was busy smirking at her portable device.

HurricaneAubrey tried to hide her disappointment at Jennxpenn by stuffing her face with more popcorn. The scene changed to modern Rachel leading a charge of her French production crew against the English filmmakers, with the footage switching back and forth between a similar battle taking place with medieval Rachel commanding armies of French crossbowmen and cavalry against English soldiers armed with longbows. Even with an epic battle occurring onscreen, Jennxpenn was still glued to her portable device.

"I heard that RACHEL's deleted scenes are the real movie scenes and the movie we're currently watching are the actual deleted scenes," said HurricaneAubrey in an attempt to get Jennxpenn interested in the movie. "The deleted scenes have Rachel both as a 19th century French photographer rallying her countrymen against the Germans during the Franco-Prussian War and as a 20th century French filmmaker combating Nazis during the Second World War. This changes everything about the movie RACHEL. The message is that life isn't so black and white. This is clearly shown by how 19th century Rachel is channeling Joan of Arc to maintain French dominance over the fragmented German states. In stark contrast, 20th century Rachel takes inspiration from Joan of Arc by leading resistance movements against the Nazis occupying France, getting assistance from ironically the British. This version of RACHEL challenges our notion of morality. Isn't that amazing Jennxpenn?"

Jennxpenn wasn't paying attention to a word HurricaneAubrey was saying. Out of curiosity, HurricaneAubrey glanced over to the portable device Jennxpenn was showing such interest in. She saw that Jennxpenn was watching videos of herself performing prank phone calls to several people, ranging from telling people that she was pregnant to calling in sick to workplaces she didn't actually worked at. HurricaneAubrey was flabbergasted by Jennxpenn's idea of entertainment.

"I hate pranks," said HurricaneAubrey simply as she angrily got up from the couch.

Jennxpenn looked at how upset HurricaneAubrey was as she retreated to the kitchen.

"Why is she always so angry?" whispered Jennxpenn as she continued watching her prank videos.

As HurricaneAubrey started microwaving another bag of popcorn, she thought about how much she despised pranks. She remembered all too well how Rémi Gaillard, the famous French prankster, vandalized the Louvre's artwork and covered the Palace of Versailles with toilet paper. Against her protests, the Internet Police pardoned Rémi Gaillard of his wrongdoings for his contribution in bringing down George Zazz's regime. HurricaneAubrey thought that he should at least be held accountable for his obvious criminal acts of desecrating historical and artistic works. And it wasn't just Rémi Gaillard she hated. She hated online pranksters she perceived would commit despicable acts just for views and a morbid sense of entertainment.

"And they have the gall to claim that many of their pranks provide meaningful commentary on societal trends," said HurricaneAubrey as she thought about Jennxpenn's pranks. "What does claiming you're pregnant contribute to improving society?"

A video phone was ringing in the kitchen, playing Vivaldi's Spring.

"I hate that damn ringtone," said Jennxpenn, which was heard by HurricaneAubrey.

HurricaneAubrey programmed the video phone to replace Vivaldi's Winter with Vivaldi's Spring as its new ringtone even though it was still February, a winter month. She hoped that an early spring would arrive to herald the end of a gloomy winter, using Vivaldi's Spring as a plea to the universe for an end to the winds of winter. Unfortunately, it would be a long winter that would extend beyond February and into March, and her deteriorating relationship between her and Jennxpenn would be another symptom of the unforgiving winds of winter. In desperate need to shelter herself from the hostile environment both outside and inside, she was relieved when she saw the Critic speaking to her through the video phone.

"Hello HurricaneAubrey," said the Critic. "I need your help decrypting these two enigmatic messages regarding the Idaho case. I already have Rick and Wheatley working on it, but so far, they have been getting nowhere."

"You would think two A.I. robots would be able to find the hidden meaning quickly," said HurricaneAubrey.

"I think they would solve it faster if they weren't arguing all the time," said the Critic.

"I AM NOT A MORON!" shouted Wheatley.

"You are a moron. Only morons would think that a chicken would be used to communicate via dots and dashes," said Rick. "To quote you, 'Brian Kyle used a chicken to avoid detection by Overly Attached Girlfriend and her crew of bitches.'"

HurricaneAubrey was informed of the latest developments in the Idaho case for the past few days, so she knew what the Critic and his robot assistants were talking about.

"How about I show you the two lines of dots and dashes sent by Brian Kyle?" said the Critic.

"Okay," said HurricaneAubrey.

HurricaneAubrey saw the first line of dots and dashes as "... - ...", and she saw the second line as "- . -. - .-. .- .-. .-. . -.. .- - -.-. .-. .- - . .-. ... - ..-. - ... . - - - -. -. .- - .. - -. .- .-.. - - -. ..- - . -. –". She immediately knew the true meaning of the first line.

"The three dots, the three dashes, and the three dots once more are obviously a distress call known as SOS," said HurricaneAubrey.

"SOS?" asked Wheatley. "Doesn't that mean save our souls?"

"Not exactly," said HurricaneAubrey. "It is just the simplest way of communicating while using Morse code. Understandably, an emergency requires a quick response. We have 911 for emergency contacts by American phones. For Morse code, it is three dots, three dashes, and three dots again for a request for immediate assistance. Simple, but effective."

"We know that Brian needed help," said the Critic. "But what about the second line of dots and dashes?"

"I'm sure that we have a ubiquitous source of information that will help us unscramble the second line in no time," said HurricaneAubrey with a joking smile.

"Of course," said the Critic smiling back as he turned towards Wheatley and Rick. "Are you able to quickly find the meaning of the second line of Morse code using the information superhighway?

"With pleasure," said Wheatley.

"Yes Sir," said Rick.

The two robots departed to use the internet to find out the second line of Morse code. This gave the Critic some free time with HurricaneAubrey.

"So how's your movie night with Jennxpenn?" asked the Critic.

"If dinner was a total disaster, then movie night is a slow burn destroying what little connection we had with each other. I'm just not compatible with Jennxpenn. Basically, the only things we share in common are generic labels of being American, female, and coming from Mid-Atlantic states," said HurricaneAubrey as she was brushing her long, brunette hair with her hand.

"We seem to have a closer relationship with each us despite me being an Illinois man," said the Critic. "Though we may be American, I am a German American while you are an Italian American."

"But we have much more in common with each other than with my apprentice," said HurricaneAubrey. "For example, we both are movie buffs and love interpreting films to find a deeper meaning. Have you seen RACHEL, Critic?"

"It is only one of the most captivating and monumental movies of the year," said the Critic with a smile. "It is full of political and cultural subtext that could take one several years to comprehend."

"Well let's get started then," said HurricaneAubrey with pleasure. "What do you think of how symbolic light is throughout the film?"

"It is a source of inspiration for our main character in the film," said the Critic. "Obviously, the medieval scenes used light as symbolizing divine revelation. But for the modern setting, Rachel uses light to film properly on the set of her planned movie, with the light guiding her just like Joan of Arc."

"Well phrased," said HurricaneAubrey as she climbed onto the kitchen counter with the phone in her hand. "But you are forgetting the malevolent role light plays in RACHEL. Fire, one of humanity's chief providers of light, led to the downfall of our main character in medieval times, and it was exposure to sunlight that ruined Rachel's fragile film prints near the end of RACHEL."

"I didn't know about the negative impact light played in RACHEL," commented the Critic. "You really know how to critique cinema properly like a true critic."

"Movies are paintings with sound and movement, and as an artist, it is natural for me to approach film the same way as any other works of art," said HurricaneAubrey. "So what else can we take away from RACHEL? Oh I know! How about the music used in the movie?"

"Sure," said the Critic with enthusiasm.

Lying down on the couch, Jennxpenn heard HurricaneAubrey talking passionately on the phone with the Critic. She listened to HurricaneAubrey and the Critic thoroughly dissecting the film that was ignored by Jennxpenn.

"Who cares about the symbols and deeper meanings that smarty pants pull out of their own asses to look and sound more intelligent than they really are?" thought Jennxpenn as she released whipped cream into her mouth with a spray can.

Jennxpenn knew how close the Critic and HurricaneAubrey, with the latter giggling loudly from the kitchen. Jennxpenn continued consuming whipped cream as she disregarded the mess she was making.

"Though to be fair to HurricaneAubrey, at least she doesn't murder people for not understanding pretentious works of crap or not acting like a proper woman. She might nag at me constantly, but she isn't like Roxy Harmon," said Jennxpenn as she flashed back to a traumatic memory.

In the latter stages of the Great Schism of America, Emperor George commenced with actual killings instead of relying primarily on tranquilizer darts due to the emergence of the ex-Patricians. The ex-Patricians were initial followers of Emperor George's traditionalist doctrine before they were excommunicated by the Emperor himself for diverging from his strict beliefs. This period of the Great Schism of America saw the majority of the bloodshed as Emperor George's Patricians fought ex-Patricians and Plebeians. The ex-Patricians fighting against Patricians and Plebeians. And Plebeians combating Patricians and ex-Patricians. As they were scouting the foothills of Griffith Park, Jennxpenn and College Liberal considered themselves to be proud Plebeians rebelling against both the Patricians and ex-Patricians. Through binoculars, they saw two Victorians enjoying a hunt through the woods. These well-dressed hunters were a middle-aged man and a teenage girl most responsible for the recently high mortality rates of the Great Schism: Frank Murdoch and Roxy Harmon. Jennxpenn cringed as Frank and Roxy were hunting their favorite type of prey: Plebeian humans.

"Oh how I enjoy a good hunt," proclaimed Frank as he aimed his elephant gun through the seemingly tranquil forest. "Wait till Emperor George hears of our slaughter of the Plebeian prey."

"I especially love how the Plebeians' blood flows out of their bodies," said Roxy as she marched with her elephant gun. "I'm glad Emperor George gave his approval of using live Plebeians as target practice."

From what she could tell from afar, Jennxpenn observed Frank and Roxy walking calmly as she saw the Plebeian prey desperate hiding of them in the foliage. They were teenage boys who were unarmed and dressed in modern clothing.

"Can you believe them?" said Jennxpenn with disgust. "College Liberal. Are you recording this to show the world how evil Emperor George is? Just look at how terrified the teenage boys are in the presence of Frank and Roxy."

Jennxpenn stared at College Liberal to get some approval of her opposition towards Frank and Roxy. Much to her surprise, she saw College Liberal with a vindictive smile on her face.

"Look at those teenage boys getting the justice they deserve. I see one boy manspreading on the forest floor, and another boy attempting to chisel a stone arrow from a rock. Men can be so oppressive and cruel," commented College Liberal.

Jennxpenn was aghast at what College Liberal had to say. She wanted to yell at College Liberal that the boy was scared shitless of Frank and Roxy to care about his sitting posture, and that the boy was obviously defending himself from two maniacs, not worrying about the issue of masculinity vs. femininity with regards to violence. But when she saw Frank and Roxy firing their elephant guns at the boys, she knew better than alert them of her presence. Jennxpenn saw each boy being killed by Frank and Roxy's bullets. Of course some of them tried to fight back, but armed with only sticks and stones, they were unable to break Frank and Roxy's bones. It was the boys' bones that were broken instead. Jennxpenn watched as the boy with the stone arrow charge at Frank, intending to thrust the arrow into the man's heart. Lacking in common sense, the boy ended up being riddled with bullets from Frank's elephant gun.

"Boys will be boys," said College Liberal casually. "Stupid and prone to violence."

Jennxpenn saw that College Liberal showed no concern for the fear on the boys' faces as Frank and Roxy fertilized the greenery with their red blood. As the screams of the boys echoed into her ears, Jennxpenn was compelled to jump in and interfere regardless of her doubts earlier. She was contemplating such an act when Frank and Roxy reached the last boy, the one who had been committing the so-called heinous crime of manspreading.

"Do you know why we brought you here?" asked Frank as he pointed his elephant gun at the boy's face.

"I…I…I.. don't know," said the teenage boy as he was crying.

"Shame that this pathetic excuse of a man can't even fight properly," said Roxy as she pointed the elephant gun between the teenage boy's legs. "I'm almost compelled to just let him go so that he will feel shame for the rest of his life. Killing him is too merciful for him. But I can't let a good target go to waste. Imagine how Emperor George would react if he finds out that my shooting accuracy was 90% instead of 100% if I let you go."

Frank and Roxy were about to conclude their hunt when the boy cried out in despair.

"I'm sorry that I was unable to recite Lincoln's Gettysburg Address," said the boy. "I should be ashamed of myself."

"You should be. You shouldn't call yourself an American. Do you have no respect for the soldiers who died on the battlefield?" said Frank. "What do you do in your spare time? Perform dumb and dangerous stunts for internet views or being rude in movie theaters?"

"I'll recite the Gettysburg Address to show my appreciation for the generation who sacrificed their lives for this nation," said the boy sobbing. "You'll let me go if I say each and every word correctly."

"If you think you're in for a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention," said Roxy in a frank manner. "But I'll give you a chance to redeem yourself. Of course, I doubt you'll be able to save yourself."

"Let's see if he's up to the standards of the previous generations of Americans who made this country great," said Frank.

With the boy seeing the two elephant guns now pointing to the ground, he began reciting President Abraham Lincoln's iconic Gettysburg Address.

"Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal," said the boy with fear in his eyes.

Jennxpenn remembered a traumatic memory that involved the Gettysburg Address. She conjured up images of a middle school field trip to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, where she was the center of attention in the worst way possible.

"Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this," said the boy as Frank and Roxy raised their eyebrows in awe.

Jennxpenn was genuinely impressed with how much of Lincoln's Gettysburg Address the boy could recall. It was her inability of recalling even the Four score part of the address that caused her embarrassment during her field trip. When she was called forth by her teacher to recite Lincoln's speech in front of the whole class at Gettysburg, she misspoke the first line as "Four scones and seven years ago our founding dads made the United States of America a new nation, where all men and women are created equal." She could still see and hear the other students laughing hysterically at her, some even mimicking a gun being shot into their heads with their fingers. She still could sense the disappointment the teacher had in her to this very day.

"But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate - we cannot consecrate - we cannot hallow - this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract," said the teenage boy with a smile, perhaps sensing that not all hope was lost.

Dealing with anxieties in middle school, Jennxpenn sympathized with what the teenage boy was going through. The boy was dealing with the same dilemma she had at Gettysburg, only it was a pair of murderous thugs who were judging him. She badly wanted him to succeed.

"The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us - that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion - that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain - that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom - and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the world," said the teenage boy.

The teenage boy collapsed completely on the forest floor, believing he had earned his right to live. Jennxpenn sighed with relief as Frank and Roxy stared at each other before walking away from the boy.

"I'm glad there was a happy ending after all," commented Jennxpenn looking through her binoculars at the joyous boy.

Suddenly, Frank and Roxy immediately marched towards the boy as they aimed their elephant guns directly at him.

"You had the entire speech performed correctly… except when you said world instead of earth," said Frank.

"What?!" shouted the panicking boy.

"I'm afraid that you are about to meet your intended fate after all," said Roxy as she had her finger on the trigger. "Any last words, Plebeian boy?"

The teenage boy was thinking of what vocabulary words in the English language would sum up his life. He never got that chance.

"Took too long," said Roxy as she fired several rounds into the boy, killing him instantly.

Roxy was looking triumphant as Frank looked somewhat dissatisfied.

"You could have at least given him the chance to say some parting words before leaving this world," said Frank.

"What could he have possibly say? I like the big titties and pussies on the girls I like to fuck," said Roxy crudely. "I like to show my big cock that I use to impress the chicks to compensate for watching shitty reality television shows and movies full of boobies and explosions."

"Good point," said Frank as he fired a bullet into the boy's head.

"We do make a good hunting team," said Roxy as she gave an adorable smile to Frank.

"Indeed. We should do this more often," said Frank as he offered Roxy his hand.

Jennxpenn saw Frank and Roxy frolicking through a forest filled with the corpses of teenage boys. Jennxpenn turned to College Liberal, who was muttering enthusiastically.

"Such a strong woman showing men in their proper place. I think I'm in love," said College Liberal.

Grabbing a nearby rock, College Liberal smashed the video camera that had been documenting Frank and Roxy's wrongdoings. College Liberal gave a gesture of her index finger being placed over her lips to a wide-mouthed Jennxpenn.

"I just want to strangle her," thought Jennxpenn. "But seeing as Frank and Roxy are nearby, I just have to settle with giving the Weathervanes the cold shoulder."

Back in the present, Jennxpenn was breathing heavily as she remembered two calamitous events revolving around the Gettysburg Address: her embarrassing middle school field trip to Gettysburg and the senseless murder of a teenage boy when he couldn't recite it properly.

"Aren't you forgetting the actual fucking battle that took place at Gettysburg that prompted President Lincoln to draft the Gettysburg Address?! That was the real calamitous event!" shouted a voice that sounded nothing like HurricaneAubrey's.

Jennxpenn got out of her stupor to search the room for the location of the shrill voice. She saw that it was Roxy Harmon sitting on the couch, with Frank standing behind the couch with a machine gun.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" said Roxy.

Initially looking fearful, Jennxpenn shrugged her shoulder as she delivered her own counterargument against Roxy and Frank.

"You two are dead. So your argument is invalid," said Jennxpenn. "I'm just imagining you two here."

Jennxpenn saw an empty room once more. She leaned back on her couch satisfied with herself.

"What is dead is dead," said Jennxpenn. "Those two can't hurt me or anyone else."

HurricaneAubrey came out of the kitchen looking happy after her long and productive conversation with the Critic. She took one look at Jennxpenn. Her face became stern and professional.

"Pack your bags. We're going to Craters of the Moon National Monument in Idaho," said HurricaneAubrey to Jennxpenn.

Jennxpenn gave HurricaneAubrey a look of boredom.

"Why can't we have missions in exotic locations like Hawaii?" lamented Jennxpenn.

"Because the Morse code sent out to us read Men trapped at Craters of the Moon National Monument," said HurricaneAubrey with an air of authority. "Not little girl who wants to complain about everything."

The name Idaho originated from a mining lobbyist who believed that more settlers would come to the state if it had an exotic sounding name. Claiming that Idaho derived from a Shoshone term Gem of the Mountains, the lobbyist hoped that more people would come and develop the state from its vast wilderness. In the eyes of Jennxpenn, the lobbyist had clearly failed as she was flying in a military transport helicopter flown by the Nerd over the barren wasteland of the Craters of the Moon National Monument, wishing to herself to be anywhere else. As for the Critic, the Nerd, HurricaneAubrey, and Rick, they gazed in awe over the desolate landscape, either for its natural beauty or for how this was the site where NASA astronauts practiced going to the exotic location of Earth's moon. For Wheatley, he was shaking uncontrollably as if the national monument had reminded him of a traumatic memory concerning lunar surfaces. No matter their opinion of Idaho's environment, these six Internet Police agents, dressed in typical American military fatigues, had one mission: rescue the men trapped by a nest of love-struck women, most of whom were teenage girls.

"I think we aren't prepared for taking on the teenage girls," said Jennxpenn.

"You aren't prepared, Jennxpenn. Just follow the professionals, and you'll be fine," said HurricaneAubrey with confidence.

"What makes you think you can handle teenage girls?" said Jennxpenn. "They're so unstable and prone to emotional turmoil. I know because I was once one and was surrounded by them growing up."

HurricaneAubrey glanced at the Critic. Thankfully, the Critic sided with her.

"Jennxpenn. We have dealt with much worse than run of the mill teenage girls. Before HurricaneAubrey even became an Internet Police agent, we faced Fred Figglehorn and his bloodthirsty soldiers in the First War, confronted the kleptomaniac Carmen Sandiego, and arrested the notorious serial killer Harry S. Plinkett," said the Critic with swagger.

"And after I became an Internet Police agent, I was with the Critic and Nerd when they faced Fred Figglehorn in the Second War, defeating him once and for all. And I was instrumental in bringing about the downfall of Emperor George's Empire," said HurricaneAubrey in a boastful tone.

"But…but…" stammered Jennxpenn. "But these teenage girls are so unpredictable. And we aren't prepared for their level of unpredictability. Just look at what happened when they took out our useless robots when they were sent in a first wave to root out these teenage girls."

Jennxpenn saw that Wheatley and Rick looked offended by her statement.

"Listen Blondie. Our R.O.B. (Robotic Operating Buddy) units are state of the art beauties that can fire rounds of ammunition (tranquilizer darts because our targets are underage bitches) with pinpoint accuracy through their binocular eyes, knock out targets with their arms spinning rapidly around their cylindrical middle bodies, and cover all sorts of terrain with their lower bases containing American-made military-grade wheels and rocket boosters," said Rick in a gruff voice.

"Then why are we here if the R.O.B.s supposedly succeeded in their mission. From what I gathered, we lost reception with the units after just a few minutes in the field," commented Jennxpenn.

"I'm sure it is nothing," said Rick. "And even if that was the case, then we can just take on these sluts with just our superior firepower alone." Rick flexed his robotic arm that was covered by artificial skin as he shouted towards the Nerd in the cockpit. "Go on Nerd. Tell her of our technological superiority."

"Gladly," said the Nerd with enthusiasm over the intercom. "These girls are probably armed with only mobile devices to take pictures of themselves and their kidnapped dates. Nothing to worry about. Unless you count their deadly arsenal of high heel shoes and makeup kits." The Nerd gave a chuckle as he began describing the weapons the Internet Police agents had their disposal. "As you are already aware of, we are all armed with Konami LaserScopes attached to our American military helmets. These headgears of my own creation will allow us to fire a sonic pulse from our Super Scope guns with unbelievable accuracy. After several trials of inspiration, perspiration, and temper-tantrums, I finally perfected these two weapons to be the next generation of Internet Police standard-issue gear. Do you really think teenage girls armed with lipstick can stand up to these futuristic technologies?"

Jennxpenn said nothing as the helicopter landed on the foggy grounds of the Craters of the Moon National Monument. With fog engulfing the agents, the Critic motioned to his fellow soldiers to turn on their shoulder-mounted flashlights.

"Let there be light," said Wheatley in a futile attempt to reassure himself.

The six agents marched across the emptiness of Idaho's moonscape. With their own eyes and the assistance of motion trackers, the agents were looking for any signs of the kidnapped men or their female captors. Wheatley was traversing with Jennxpenn as they were falling behind the Critic, the Nerd, HurricaneAubrey, and Rick. As he lost sight of the four agents in front of him, Wheatley tried to relieve himself of stress by having a light conversation with Jennxpenn.

"So today is Valentine's Day," said Wheatley with a smile. "A holiday celebrating love between two humans with chocolate and flowers. Isn't that lovely?"

Jennxpenn gave Wheatley a stern look as she spoke.

"They mostly come out at Valentine's Day. Mostly," said Jennxpenn ominously. "These teenage girls, desperate for love, force helpless boys to join them in premature matrimony. The girls just grabbed these boys, and before they knew it, these boys are standing in front of an altar with a shotgun behind their heads."

Wheatley gulped as he trekked on, eventually catching up to the four other agents. He laughed nervously as he thought about the advantages he had compared to these girls.

"Everything is under control," said Wheatley as he clutched his Super Scope and readjusted his Konami LaserScope.

"What the hell happened here?!" shouted the Nerd as the fog began to dissipate.

Wheatley and Jennxpenn saw that they were now standing in a graveyard of R.O.B. units. Their arms and binocular eyes were pulled out of their sockets, their rocket boosters were busted, and their microchips and wires were scattered across the ground like organs. The Critic gave out an immediate command.

"Let get the fuck out of here," said the Critic.

Jennxpenn felt some satisfaction that she was proven right about how dangerous lovesick teenage girls were.

"Not feeling so high and mighty after all," said Jennxpenn with a smug expression.

Jennxpenn saw none of the other four agents were staring at her, which annoyed her greatly. She wanted to be recognized for being right all along.

"Why are these four not appreciating me for being the best agent of all…. wait four?" said Jennxpenn as she counted who was here. There was the Critic, the Nerd, HurricaneAubrey, Rick and….

"What on earth are you doing?!" screamed HurricaneAubrey across the lunar-like surface.

Jennxpenn saw Wheatley running away in terror, and unluckily for him, he didn't get far before a crater opened up below his feet.

"Grab me! Grab me! Grab me!" cried Wheatley as he tried to climb out of the hole.

The five agents rushed to grab Wheatley, but then a figure emerged to pull Wheatley into the hole like a trapdoor spider catching her prey. Upon closer inspection, the Critic saw that this was something even worse and uglier than a trapdoor spider: Hyper Fangirl.

"Follow me down the rabbit hole, and you'll be in wonderland," said Hyper Fangirl with a suggestive wink to the Critic as she tugged Wheatley into the hole.

All was silent as the five remaining agents rushed towards the hole. It appeared to be bottomless from their perspective as the agents looked down upon it.

"Should have been more prepared for the unpredictable," commented Jennxpenn as the four other agents were at a loss for words.

 **Please review this story to provide me some advice on improving it. What other internet personalities or memes should the Internet Police encounter?**


	4. Prey Part 2

**I do not own any of the internet personalities or memes presented in this story.**

The Internet Police: Year in Review

Prey, Part 2

Valentine's Day is considered by many to be their least favorite holiday for good reason. For the five Internet Police agents climbing down a hole in the lunar landscape of Idaho's Craters of the Moon National Monument, they had their own reasons for despising Valentine's Day. The Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd hated Valentine's Day for all the atrocious romantic movies that plagued the entire month of February all because of one day. HurricaneAubrey despised Valentine's Day for how she was forced to draw some truly awful cards during her employment at the Norman Greeting Card Company. For Rick the Adventure Sphere, he couldn't understand why women on Valentine's Day would force men to shop for impractical clothing and noxious perfumes instead of allowing them to do manly things like wrestling wild boars or bending pipes to reroute deadly neurotoxin. Jennxpenn hated Valentine's Day for causing women to completely lose their minds on that one day in February. And as the five agents were descending the hole using grappling hook guns, they hated Valentine's Day even more than they already did based on how Overly Attached Girlfriend and her army of desperate teenage girls were celebrating the day by stalking and kidnapping. At the bottom of the hole was what appeared to be an abandoned underground mining facility complete with flicking light bulbs and rusting infrastructures. The human Internet Police agents were trying to catch their breaths after their trip down.

"Well that was fun," said Rick, who was the only one who wasn't panting. "Now let's get Overly Attached Girlfriend, save Wheatley from Hyper Fangirl, and maybe punch some of these nymphomaniacs in the face."

Guided by his Konami LaserScope and his shoulder-mounted flashlight, Rick ran through the dimly lit passageways of the abandoned mine. The human Internet Police agents struggled to catch up to the android as he leaped over fallen rocks and mangled mining equipment.

"How in the hell did these girls manage to create a headquarters for their storage of men from a place like this?" asked the Nerd as he jumped over a pair of jackhammers.

"Love is a powerful force, and with the girls having an unhealthy amount of lust, they can move literal mountains to fulfill their Valentine's Day fantasies," said Jennxpenn as she nearly avoided being struck down by a wayward wall pipe. "Don't underestimate what these girls are capable of."

The Critic and HurricaneAubrey remained silent as they tried catching up to Rick and his mechanical running abilities. With less time devoted to talking about the validity of Jennxpenn's statement, they managed to catch up to Rick, and with a nod from the android, HurricaneAubrey and the Critic reached into their military backpacks for their Electronic Databases.

"Let's drive these girls out by the sounds of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture! Now with sonic pulses. Cue the music!" shouted Rick as he turned on the volume of his E.D. up to eleven.

"Wait!" screamed Jennxpenn. "That will just tell the girls that we are here. They already knew of our arrival when we sent out our scouting robots earlier. And now you're just going to flash a huge neon sign telling the girls exactly where we are in the mine. Use your fucking minds."

Alas, Jennxpenn's protest were in vain as the four other agents cranked up the volumes of their E.D.s, with the sounds of cannons and church bells echoing throughout the mining facility. Russian composer Tchaikovsky wrote the 1812 Overture in 1880 to commemorate Russia's victory over Napoleon's Grande Armée during his 1812 invasion of Russia. The bombastic and patriotic nature of the piece was readily adopted by the Americans to celebrate their Independence Day, and though the Russians and Americans didn't have the best relationship over the years, it seems fitting that their love of the 1812 Overture would be based on their extensive use of cannons (a symbol of military prowess) to elevate the piece to new heights. Of course, Jennxpenn knew nothing of the historical significance behind the 1812 Overture or even its name. All she knew was that all the noises of cannons and church bells would simply telegraph their presence to the love-struck teenage girls.

"Stop it! Stop it!" shouted Jennxpenn over the music.

The four Internet Police agents ignored Jennxpenn as they blasted the barrels, the lockers, and any potential hiding places in the abandoned mine with their Super Scopes. So far, the sonic pulses uncovered nothing but debris.

"I think they can hear us from California!" shouted Jennxpenn.

Jennxpenn needed to attract the attention of the four agents. Thus, she pulled out her own Electronic Database, and with the volume placed at its maximum limit, she played a song made by a friend of hers: Friday. The auto-tune song about looking forward to the weekend and the philosophical question of which seat to take within an automobile caught the attention of the four agents.

"That song is so dated to the early 21st century compared to Tchaikovsky's Overture 1812!" yelled HurricaneAubrey as she covered her ears.

"Not unlike that French guy's song written in 1812," said Jennxpenn.

The agents ceased playing music from their E.D.s, and just when HurricaneAubrey was about to continue arguing with Jennxpenn, the Nerd intervened.

"Quiet!" shouted the Nerd as he waved his motion tracker in the dimly lit hallway.

The handheld motion tracker had a green screen that showed yellow circles if movement from an organic lifeform was detected. So far, the screen remained empty save for four yellow dots. A few minutes pass by, and still no lifeforms besides the human agents appeared. The agents sighed in frustration as they proceeded to march into the darkness. Suddenly, the motion tracker started beeping as one additional dot appeared on screen.

"Our plan worked!" shouted Rick in excitement. "A girl is headed for us."

The agents adjusted their Konami LaserScopes on their heads and positioned their Super Scopes to face the dark hallway in front of them.

"We got her now," said the Nerd as his motion tracker indicated a singular dot heading towards the four dots clustered together.

"Looks like she brought along a friend," said HurricaneAubrey as another dot appeared on the screen.

"Woah. Looks like we have a slumber party heading for us," said the Critic as a multitude of dots appeared on the screen.

"We must be in the twenties by now," said Jennxpenn staring at her motion tracker.

"Getting closer," said the Nerd as the moving dots were nearly on top of their dots. His Super Scope was ready for contact. "Ready. Aim. Fire!"

The sonic pulses penetrated the hallway. The agents were certain that nothing could have stood a chance against five Super Scopes firing sonic pulses at the same time.

"That's enough!" shouted the Critic.

"Let's see what's left of these bitches," said Rick.

The agents rushed a few paces forward, anticipating several unconscious girls on the receiving end of the sonic pulses. Much to their surprise, they saw no girls at all.

"Did the girls dodge the pulses and retreated?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

The Critic took another look at his motion tracker, and saw the congregation of dots still present.

"What in the world?" said the Critic. "The equipment must be faulty."

The agents looked forward and backwards for the girls, but they saw nothing. Jennxpenn then looked upwards and saw the source of the throng of dots. With her shoulder-mounted flashlight pointing up, she could clearly see several teenage girls hanging from the ceiling with hairspray cans.

"Run!" screamed Jennxpenn.

Instinctively, the four human agents ran as they fired their sonic pulses at the girls.

"You don't scare me, you nymphomaniacs!" shouted Rick as he stood his ground while firing his Super Scope.

Several teenage girls fell to the ground after being struck by the sonic pulses, and though several of them were rendered unconscious, many simply got up and started spraying Rick with hairspray.

"What are you going to do to me? Beautify me to death," said Rick with a smirk.

During the chaotic situation, the Critic and HurricaneAubrey became separated from the Nerd and Jennxpenn. Within the claustrophobic hallways, the last thing they heard before splitting up was Rick screaming "They're ripping my arms off!"

"I guess that's what Valentine's Day does to people," said the Critic. "Jennxpenn was right."

After what seems to be hours wandering endlessly through the foreboding corridors, the Critic and HurricaneAubrey were now passing through what appeared to be an underground warehouse filled with forklifts, crates, and container cranes. Presumably, this was where the valuable minerals mined from this facility would be packaged and shipped to the world above. None of that mattered to HurricaneAubrey right now as she was in an entirely different world: her own mind. She was struggling between ranting to the Critic about how incompetent her apprentice was or remaining entirely focused on the mission at hand.

"Might as well deal with the problem now rather than have the issue distract me from combatting the teenage girls," thought HurricaneAubrey. "If I keep my rantings against Jennxpenn to myself, then my mind would unprepared for the unpredictable trekking through the mines."

The Critic sighed as he saw a couple of movie posters plastered all over the warehouse. The light from his shoulder-mounted flashlight revealed such horrors known as the romance movies. They included such diabolical names like Pearl Harbor and Twilight, movies which the Critic loathed and detested. HurricaneAubrey was preoccupied with her own problems to pay attention to the posters.

"But if I complain about my apprentice to the Critic, then he'll get into a heated argument with me. He'll accuse me of being a cranky old woman who can't accept the next generation, and while I'm formulating my counterarguments, the girls will ambush us without giving us much time to prepare," thought HurricaneAubrey. "What should I do?"

HurricaneAubrey then noticed the movie posters, and ironically, they would be her salvation.

"I got it," thought HurricaneAubrey as she smiled back at the movie posters. "I'll talk to him about what we hate the most about Valentine's Day."

"What are you smiling at?" asked the Critic to HurricaneAubrey. He saw her giving a wide grin at the posters for The Ugly Truth and When in Rome. "Don't tell me you like this sexist crap."

"Of course not," said HurricaneAubrey. "I just was thinking about the best way of burning them. Oh, how I hate Valentine's Day."

"Me too," said the Critic. "I hate Valentine's Day for mass-producing these shitty romantic comedies."

"I hate Valentine's Day for forcing me to draw anatomically accurate hearts on some holiday cards," said HurricaneAubrey.

"I hate Valentine's Day for pressuring young people to get involved in toxic relationships," said the Critic.

"I hate Valentine's Day for mocking single people for the heinous crime of being… well single," said HurricaneAubrey.

"I hate Valentine's Day for causing couples to overspend on things they don't need like speedboats and impractical lingerie," said the Critic.

The Critic and HurricaneAubrey continued venting their hatred for Valentine's Day, from the fact that Valentine's Day caused the complex concept of love to be reduced to how much you spent to the idea of naked babies being the source of love. HurricaneAubrey breathed a sigh of relief as she listened to the Critic ramble on about how much he hated Valentine's Day.

"I got my mind off Jennxpenn, and I'm focused on the mission at hand," said HurricaneAubrey.

"What was that?" said the Critic. "You wanted to talk to me about Jennxpenn?"

HurricaneAubrey groaned.

"Better get it out of the way I suppose," said HurricaneAubrey. "As you already know…."

"Do you know what I hate the most about Valentine's Day? Being trapped in a cage with all these smelly men," said an English-accented voice that sounded familiar to the Critic and HurricaneAubrey.

"Hey! I'm having enough bad luck as it is without you making things worse," said another familiar voice.

The Critic and HurricaneAubrey rushed to where these male voices were conducting their arguments. Guided by their shoulder-mounted flashlights and their motion trackers, the two agents quickly found what they were looking for. The kidnapped men were trapped in large cages stacked on top of each other within the large warehouse.

"Save us," said one man. "We were forced to endure the horrors we dare not say. Like watching girly movies."

"I hope you don't also include me as one of the horrors," said Wheatley.

"Just get us out of here," said Bad Luck Brain.

"Too late," said a giggling voice. "Looks like we have two more additions for our dating service.

HurricaneAubrey and the Critic immediately took out their motion trackers for any sign of the teenage girls. There was a plethora of dots showcasing signs of organic lifeforms rushing towards the Critic and HurricaneAubrey as the two agents stood between the towers of cages.

"Where are they?!" shouted HurricaneAubrey as she saw nothing behind or in front of her.

The Critic looked up at the ceiling as another possible source of the girl infestation. His shoulder-mounted flashlight revealed no humans. That only left one possibility for their whereabouts.

"Oh no," commented the Critic as he stared at the metal panels that made up the warehouse's floor. "Get ready, HurricaneAubrey."

Like bees attracted to honey, swarms of girls burst out of the floor. Fortunately for the agents, the girls didn't come up directly below them.

"Fire!" yelled the Critic as he and HurricaneAubrey tried to maintain discipline.

Using the accuracy of the Konami LaserScope, the superiority of the Super Scopes, and the element of surprise eliminated, the two agents were holding back the girls, armed only with hairspray cans, with ease. By remaining in place and not scattering at the sight of the girls, HurricaneAubrey and the Critic were able to hold back the girls with a continuous fire of sonic pulses.

"They're everywhere!" shouted HurricaneAubrey as her Konami LaserScope was assisting her in pinpointing where to fire. "But I think we can make a clearing soon enough."

"Good," said the Critic, remaining calm in the face of danger.

The men were gazing upon the spectacle of a man and woman fending off hordes of teenage girls. But only Wheatley was commentating on this perversion of humanity.

"Humans. So violent and more animal than we think," said Wheatley. "Once again, I'm undecided on my stance on humanity. I should also add that they smell so bad."

"That does it!" said Bad Luck Brian as he rolled up the sleeves of his sweater vest to apparently prove his manliness. "I'm going to make my mama proud."

Bad Luck Brian punched Wheatley in the mouth, with a distinctive metal clang heard by everyone in the cage. A man was lying in pain, and that man was Bad Luck Brian.

"Like I said, humans are violent," said Wheatley in a bored tone as Bad Luck Brian recoiled in pain on the cage's floor.

"Almost there," said HurricaneAubrey as she saw the crowds of girls thinning.

HurricaneAubrey then saw the girls were retreating on masse away from them.

"Finally," said HurricaneAubrey as she wiped the sweat off her forehead. "What a relief."

Stepping over the bodies of the unconscious girls knocked out by the sonic pulses, the Critic and HurricaneAubrey opened the cage containing Wheatley, Bad Luck Brian, and the other men.

"Let's get out of here," said Bad Luck Brian.

"Wait!" yelled the Critic as he tried in vain to get all the men to not split up.

"Maybe Rick was right that being human was overrated," said Wheatley as he stood with the Critic and HurricaneAubrey on the two remaining steel panels. "Let's release the rest of the smelly humans and be done with it."

Just then, a mechanical sound was heard roaring towards the Critic, HurricaneAubrey, and Wheatley. Before they could react appropriately, the three of them flew into the air as if they were nails being attracted to a magnet.

"Love is like magnetism, and now you are at the mercy of true love," said a wicked voice.

As it turns out, a literal magnet dangling from a crane's rope was holding onto the Critic, HurricaneAubrey, and Wheatley. Being an android, Wheatley's whole body was affected by the magnet. The Critic and HurricaneAubrey's military accessories were attracted to the magnet, and since the crane hoisted them high into the air, they risked death by gravity if they dared removed their gear. The three of them saw the two women in the crane's cab responsible for their predicament

"That's the Overly Attached Girlfriend," said HurricaneAubrey as she tried to remain calm as she gazed upon the sinister smile of the girl in light blue shirt.

"And that's Hyper Fangirl," said the Critic who recognized her thick glasses and unkempt look.

"Hello Critic!" said Hyper Fangirl gleefully as she waved and blew kisses towards him.

"The horror! The horror!" said the Critic in a horrified voice.

In a poorly lit locker room far from the warehouse, the Nerd, Rick, and Jennxpenn managed to escape the teenage girls. The Nerd and Jennxpenn were psychologically damaged from their encounter with the girls in the hallway. They were luckier than say Rick as he had one of his arms ripped right out of its socket. Though you could also say that Rick was lucky for he was only spilling white fluids from his mechanical body, with the loss of said fluids being only a nuisance to Rick.

"I ain't got time to bleed," said Rick in a gruff voice as he opened one of the lockers, finding a large supply of masking tape.

As Rick was using the masking tape to block a large opening where his right arm was, the Nerd and Jennxpenn were searching through the lockers for other useful equipment. Their shoulder-mounted flashlights revealed only ragged mining clothes and photographs of the miners hunting wild game and watching demolition derbies in their spare time.

"These men are even worse than the teenage girls," said Jennxpenn.

"At least they didn't try to fucking tear off the arms of their fellow men," said Rick who finally patched up the hole in his upper body. "I'm all for girls going wild, but not this wild."

The Nerd was at a loss for words. He thought about how he underestimated the teenage girls, and that he should have listened to Jennxpenn's warnings. But not wanting to admit defeat, he thought about the only sensible solution.

"We need to find the missing men," said the Nerd.

"How?" asked Jennxpenn.

"We need a map," said the Nerd. "Look harder in the lockers."

The three agents searched the lockers for a map of the mining facility. On closer inspection, the three agents got an in-depth look at the men who worked within these claustrophobic tunnels. It turned out that the mining facility was once run by men who came from a coal mining background in the Appalachian Mountains. From the letters and photographs placed in the lockers, the three agents learned about how a combination of foreign competition, technological advancement, and societal shifts led to the decline of the coal industry in the Appalachian small towns. Thus, these miners were forced to move their entire families to the mines of Idaho to survive in an increasingly changing world. The pictures displayed in the lockers also chronicled the mine in its heyday as a haven for miners displaced by a post-industrial world that had rejected their way of life. There were images of these Appalachian miners proudly going down into the depths of the earth to liberate valuable minerals that would be used for a greater purpose on the surface.

"Now these are real men," said Rick. He then noticed a female miner in one of the photographs, prompting him to fold up the picture and hide it from view. "Real men."

Jennxpenn had a different view of the coal miners as she was holding a crumpled-up newspaper summarizing the closing down of the mining facility due to economic reasons.

"Should have progressed with the times and chosen a profession that didn't involve destroying the environment and encouraged hillbilly shenanigans," said Jennxpenn in a smug tone.

The Nerd was flipping through articles decrying the downfall of Industrial America when he finally found a map of the facility. The folded-up map was used as a bookmark for the page showing urban decay in the Rust Belt.

"Got it," said the Nerd as he held up the map in his hand.

Unfolding the map onto the floor, the Nerd saw that there were numerous tunnels crisscrossing each other in a disorganized fashion. But they were all headed towards a single, large warehouse.

"This is where the men must be," said the Nerd. "This is where the teenage girls will transport these men to the surface world. So, we're going to continue heading east until we reach the warehouse."

"But how are we going to do it with all these bitches ripping us apart," said Rick as he prominently displayed his one functioning arm. "I already lost one arm, and I'm not willing to lose the other."

"Well maybe it wasn't such a clever idea to invade the mines with guns blazing," suggested Jennxpenn. "I think we should approach things more stealthily."

The Nerd stared at Jennxpenn.

"I got it. I think we should approach things more stealthily," said the Nerd.

"That was my idea," said Jennxpenn. "I…"

The Nerd ignored Jennxpenn as he outlined his strategy of using stealth.

"The facility is overrun with lockers and broken equipment. We can use them as hiding places as we make our way to the warehouse," explained the Nerd. "It is essential that we not engage these girls unless it is absolutely necessary. Maintain silence and avoid making noise that could attract these predators."

"So, I guess we're turning from predator to prey," lamented Rick who was caressing his Super Scope with his one hand.

"Any objections? We can't win without being overwhelm by sheer numbers. This is the only plausible way to victory," said the Nerd.

Rick looked once again at his remaining arm and nodded.

"Alright then. Let's move," said the Nerd as he opened the door to the hallway.

The three agents moved through the hallways. They dared not speak for fear of attracting the teenage girls. The only sounds came from their feet, which they hoped would be dismissed by the girls as simply the sounds of falling rock. Periodically, they checked their motion trackers for any lifeforms besides the two yellow dots. After their initial encounter with the teenage girls, the three agents decided to have designated positions for their walk to the warehouse. Rick would be leading in the front to offer maximum protection from any frontal actions, with his mechanical body lending credence to being assigned the main protector. The Nerd would be at the back in defending the group from any attacks from the rear, with his shoulder-mounted flashlights illuminating the dark hallway when he occasionally stared backwards. And Jennxpenn would be in the center as a way of inspecting the ceilings and floors of the hallways for ambushes from above or below.

"I'm more than capable of handling myself," grumbled Jennxpenn who felt squished between the two men.

Clang!

Fear overtook any other emotions like disappointment and frustration as the three agents searched with their shoulder-mounted flashlights for the source of the loud clang. The agents took out their motion trackers and started counting the number of dots on the screen.

"One…two…" whispered Jennxpenn. "One…two."

With a sigh of relief, Jennxpenn realized that only two organic lifeforms were present in the general vicinity. Rick adjusted his shoulder-mounted flashlight to light up the hallway in the front. It turned out that a wrench had fell from a wall hook.

"Let's keep going," said the Nerd quickly.

With a newfound sense of discipline and self-control, the three agents continued onwards. In the instances where they did encounter the teenage girls, they had the foreknowledge of their arrival by the motion trackers and their loud voices. This gave the three of them enough time to hide, whether it be inside the lockers or behind large equipment. It was like clockwork the whole procedure of walking, searching, hiding, and walking again. As the three agents hid inside the lockers for the umpteenth time, Jennxpenn impatiently waited the band of teenage girls to march past the lockers, but they were lingering around as they discussed makeup tutorials they saw online. Since the three agents didn't care that much about makeup, all they heard were cutesy chattering outside the lockers.

"Please leave," thought Jennxpenn as she saw the girls remaining stationary in front of the locker she was hiding in.

She closed her eyes and started counting internally to pass the time.

"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten," thought Jennxpenn before opening her eyes again.

Peering through the locker's vents, she saw that the teenage girls were still there.

"Crap," thought Jennxpenn. "Just leave."

Just like all the other instances, the girls did decide to leave the area. Jennxpenn gave a sigh of relief.

"Onwards like before," thought Jennxpenn as she prepared to exit the locker.

Achoo!

Perhaps it was due to the unsanitary conditions of the lockers or because of bad timing. Whether the case, Jennxpenn let out a loud sneeze. The achoo echoed throughout the hallway.

"What was that?!" screamed one of the girls.

"I'll take a look," said another girl.

Jennxpenn closed her eyes, thinking to herself that everything was going to be fine despite her unfortunate accident. She heard the thunder of footsteps around the lockers. She then heard locker doors being opened and things being thrown out of them. Cowering on the locker's floor with hands over her head, she anticipated being dragged out of the locker and meeting the angry faces of teenage girls betrayed by their own kind.

"There are intruders here!" shouted one of the girls.

"Dammit!" thought Jennxpenn. "This is it."

"They went that way," said another teenage girl. "They're headed towards the surface."

Jennxpenn then heard the footsteps moving away from the lockers.

"It's a miracle they didn't search this one," thought Jennxpenn. "Oh no! They took away the Nerd and Rick!"

Not even a few seconds after she thought of this horrible scenario, footsteps were approaching her locker.

"And now they got me," thought Jennxpenn as she aimed her Super Scope at the door.

The locker door opened, and Jennxpenn saw that it was the Nerd and Rick standing in front of her.

"We're clear," said Rick with an annoyed expression on his face. "Let's go."

"How did we escape?" asked Jennxpenn as she stood up"

"Take a look for yourself," said the Nerd as he motioned her to get out.

Jennxpenn walked out of the locker and looked around her surroundings. She saw that the row of lockers besides the wall, initially all closed, were opened and closed at random intervals.

"I decided to fool the teenage girls into thinking we already escaped by opening the locker doors for the empty ones. I think the various junk I spilled out of the lockers was a nice touch," explained the Nerd. "Now shall we continue to the warehouse?"

Like before, Rick took the lead. The Nerd was the rear guard. And Jennxpenn was in the middle, overshadowed by two professional soldiers.

"Wonder how the Critic and my roommate is doing," thought Jennxpenn as she walked in front of the Nerd and behind Rick towards the warehouse.

To answer Jennxpenn's question, the Critic and HurricaneAubrey were hanging around. If hanging around meant being suspended in the air by a magnet. They, along with Wheatley, were the captive audience of Hyper Fangirl. Overly Attached Girlfriend had used the crane's elevator to reach the ground floor and supervise the movement of the cages into shipping crates. As the Overly Attached Girlfriend prepared to export the kidnapped men, Hyper Fangirl was gushing on about her love for the Critic while making snide remarks to HurricaneAubrey and Wheatley. To make matters worse, Hyper Fangirl decided to slip into something a little more comfortable to supposedly satisfy the Critic's fantasy: the iconic Nostalgia Critic outfit of glasses, a black cap, a red tie, a white shirt underneath a black jacket, and blue jeans.

"Hello, I'm the Nostalgia Critic. I remember it so you don't have to," said Hyper Fangirl. "And I'm going to review the greatest man of all time: The Nostalgia Critic."

The Critic, HurricaneAubrey, and Wheatley saw Hyper Fangirl playing the part of the Critic. She was pandering to the Critic's tastes as she described his life like that of a messiah.

"My savior the Nostalgia Critic was born in Naples, Italy as his father was in the military," squealed Hyper Fangirl. "But my beloved Critic was still an all-American boy who shared his love for America with his father. And my sweetheart loved his father even more than he loved America."

"Actually. My father was an asshole who beat me both physically and psychologically for not being American enough," explained the Critic.

An awkward silence overtook Hyper Fangirl. The three agents hanging from the magnet wondered what her next move would be. Hyper Fangirl then returned to her giggling form.

"Throughout his life, the Critic had to deal with assholes like his father. When he grew up from his abusive childhood, he became the legendary Nostalgia Critic, preaching the gospel of avoiding absolutely bad movies and television shows like the Star Wars prequels," said Hyper Fangirl.

"I actually thought there were good things in the prequels," said the Critic. "I liked the lightsaber battles and the different worlds displayed in the prequels."

Hyper Fangirl paused to think for a moment.

"Preaching the gospel of good movies and television shows like the Star Wars prequels," announced Hyper Fangirl.

"I hated the prequels for bland acting and boring dialogue," said the Critic. "They are nowhere near as good as the original Star Wars films."

"I agree," said Hyper Fangirl with an awkward smile. "Do you like the Emperor in the prequel films?"

"Yes," said the Critic.

"I do too!" squealed Hyper Fangirl. "Do you like Jar Jar Binks?"

"No. Fuck him," said the Critic.

"Fuck him too," said Hyper Fangirl in agreement. "I think we're clearly compatible for each other. How about this? I'll ask Overly Attached Girlfriend to position a pillow directly below you Critic so that you'll land safely to the ground."

"What about HurricaneAubrey and Wheatley?" asked the Critic.

"Ah who cares?" said Hyper Fangirl casually. "They can just end up as a new layer of floor decoration for all I care. You don't really care for the brunette bitch and the four-eyed freak, do you?"

"They are my friends and my partners. Of course I would care if they get splattered onto the floor. What's wrong with you?" said the Critic. "You wouldn't want to go against the wishes of your beloved Critic, now would you? I suggest that you put us down onto the floor, and do us a favor and not put us down while we're hanging several stories above the ground."

Hyper Fangirl was eyeing Wheatley and HurricaneAubrey with disgust before giving a hearty laugh to the Critic.

"I'm sure that these two have brainwashed you to do their bidding. How about I continue reenacting your life story to return you back to your normal self?" said Hyper Fangirl.

Once more, Hyper Fangirl was relating her version of the Nostalgia Critic's life to the Critic himself. She was delving into his first time in Japan when he was at the cusp of adolescence. As Hyper Fangirl was inaccurately relating details such as the Critic introducing Grunge music to Japan, the Critic was remembering what really happened during his time on an isolated military base in Japan with his father General Walker.

"Son! Are you watching Sailor Moon again?!" shouted General Walker as he opened the bedroom door.

The adolescent Critic hastily turned off the television with his remote but not before his dad caught sight of Serena's transformation into her Sailor Moon persona on the television screen. With the memory of Serena's flowing miniskirt embedded in both of their minds, General Walker launched into another rant against his son.

"You are an American disgrace!" yelled General Walker. "You are a deviant and perverted little man who has no restraint or dignity. If you weren't my son, I would've mistaken you for one of them Japs."

Sitting on a chair with a blanket over his legs, the adolescent Critic was getting tired of taking crap from his father, and so like many times before, the Critic began arguing with his dad.

"Why don't we go see what these Japanese people are really like? Don't you want to see if they are as perverted and deviant as you claim them to be? In fact, why do we need to be stuck on an American military base when we have an entirely new country to explore? Don't you want to meet new people and experience an exotic culture?" asked the adolescent Critic.

General Walker calmly walked up to the Critic and slapped him hard on his cheek.

"Son! You have no idea how much danger we are in Japan. Your ignorance is frankly inexcusable," stated General Walker. "Let me give you a lesson in Jap history to show you how dangerous and toxic they really are."

General Walker grabbed a chair and seated himself in front of the Critic. Having no choice on the matter, the Critic listened to General Walker's version of Japanese history.

"Before 1853, Japan was a savage land whose inhabitants spoke an alien language and practiced barbaric rituals," explained General Walker.

"What type of barbaric rituals?" asked the Critic.

"They are too horrific for your young mind," insisted General Walker. "Let's just say that Japan was a civilization in need of rescue. In 1853, American Matthew Perry arrived on the shores of Japan to save the Japs from themselves."

"Wait. Matthew Perry had the time to both save Japan and play a key role on Friends. Wow," said the Critic.

General Walker shook his head in disappointment as he continued his history lesson.

"In 1853, Commodore Matthew Perry gave the Japs an ultimatum: open up the country to the Americans or face total annihilation. Scared of the sight of America's technological might, the Japs agreed to allow American influence into the country," explained General Walker.

"If Japan agreed to America's terms back in 1853, why did Japan and America fight in World War II?" questioned the Critic.

"Because the Japs are a bunch of buck-teeth backstabbers who wanted to destroy America," stated General Walker. "Look at what they did on December 7th, 1941. It was a day that would live in infamy as the Japs attacked the American military base of Pearl Harbor without provocation. Luckily, America's military and industrial might managed to singlehandedly push the Japs back to their home islands. Even during the suicidal Kamikaze attacks, America still triumphed against the Japs from Alaska to Australia."

General Walker paused for dramatic effect.

"America once and for all defeated Japan when we dropped two atomic bombs, a testament to America's superiority, over two of their cities. Faced once again with total annihilation, the Japs surrendered," said General Walker.

General Walker stood up and began circling his son like one of his insubordinate soldiers.

"For you to watch pornographic Jap anime is shameful. It means that you are abandoning your proud American heritage for the Japs and spitting on the memory of the Americans who sacrificed their lives defeating Japan. Until very recently, the Japs have been producing more cars than the Americans, and because of this, Detroit and other industrial cities in America has been economically decimated. I'm sure that you are quite pleased with the decline of the American heartland considering your defense of the Japs," explained General Walker.

The Critic was sweating nervously as General Walker gave his closing argument against the Japanese.

"Now that the Japs have entered into a recession, the Americans have a chance to regain dominance over the automotive market and other industries seized by the Japs. Let's see where your loyalties lie," said General Walker as he gave the Critic a videotape. "Maybe this will influence you to make the right decision."

General Walker marched out of the room as the Critic placed the videotape into the VCR. The screen showed the introduction to a Looney Tunes cartoon.

"I love Looney Tunes," thought the Critic as he relaxed in his chair. "I'm glad my dad gave me a clean and harmless cartoon for me to watch."

The cartoon the Critic was watching was Bugs Bunny Nips the Nips. The Critic watched as Bugs Bunny gave out ice cream containing grenades to a bunch of short, buck-teeth, and glass-wearing Japanese soldiers.

"Where does my loyalty lie?" thought the Critic as he saw Bugs Bunny smile with delight at the sight of Japanese soldiers being killed by the ice cream filled with grenades.

Snapping out of his flashback, the Critic realized that Hyper Fangirl was now telling the fanciful tale of the Critic off Godzilla with his bare hands.

"Getting out of a traumatic flashback I take it?" asked Wheatley.

"Yeah," said the Critic. "It involved my father telling me half-truths about Japan while I was stuck on an American military base."

"I hear you. Well my memories involve me floating in the emptiness of space," said Wheatley. "I hope you won't ask me more about this ordeal."

The Critic and HurricaneAubrey nodded in agreement.

"What's your traumatic memory, HurricaneAubrey?" asked the Critic.

"Joining Emperor George's army," said HurricaneAubrey sadly. "If it wasn't for you, I would've continued on that dark path."

"Don't be hard on yourself. I had to be reformed by someone else," said the Critic. "In fact, my second time in Japan was when I came to see you during the Great Schism of America. You were lost and confused, and I came to rescue you."

"Thanks Critic," replied HurricaneAubrey with a smile.

"Thank you HurricaneAubrey," said the Critic. "I had a far better time in Japan than my first time. I was able to actually explore the intricacies of Japanese culture, both traditional and modern. The typical and the bizarre. The public and intimate sides. And I did with you, which made it even better."

Hyper Fangirl noticed that the Critic and HurricaneAubrey were smiling towards each other as if they had some sort of personal connection that was more than platonic. As she saw Wheatley smiling as well, Hyper Fangirl reached her hand towards the button that would switch off the magnet's power.

"And I believed that we also watched innovative and creative kid shows like Gravity Falls in Japan," said HurricaneAubrey. "Do you also remember when we did that Critic? Critic?"

HurricaneAubrey saw the Critic was closing his eyes in deep thought.

"Gravity Falls… Mabel… That's it!" shouted the Critic. "Grappling hook!"

"What?" asked HurricaneAubrey and Wheatley.

The magnet holding onto the agents was turned off. Wheatley and HurricaneAubrey saw that gravity was taking them to their downfall. But thanks to the Critic's idea, HurricaneAubrey took out her grappling hook and shot it at the crane's tower.

"Here!" shouted HurricaneAubrey as she handed the grappling hook to Wheatley. "Hold onto me!"

Knowing what to do, Wheatley seized the grappling hook gun and held HurricaneAubrey around her waist with his arm. Using the gun's retracting force, Wheatley and HurricaneAubrey were pulled towards the crane's lower part of its tower as they saw the Critic confronting Hyper Fangirl in the cab.

"Critic!" shouted Hyper Fangirl with a wide smile. "You're safe! Now let's get HurricaneAubrey and Wheatley!"

The Critic was leaning towards Hyper Fangirl as if they were going to kiss. Hyper Fangirl was finally going to kiss the Critic. Unfortunately for her, the Critic had other ideas as he punched Hyper Fangirl, rendering her unconscious.

"That's for getting true love all wrong," said the Critic.

As the Critic was tying up Hyper Fangirl in the back of the crane's cab, Wheatley used the grappling hook to carry HurricaneAubrey to the cab.

"Now what?" asked Wheatley.

A sound of joyous shouting came in the distance.

"We're saved!" yelled the liberated men released from their cages.

"We help out our friends in freeing the men from their prisons," answered the Critic.

Unlike the first batch of men that were freed by the Internet Police agents, the men liberated by the Nerd, Rick, and Jennxpenn were more willing to stay behind to help in the fight against the teenage girls. As soon as the teenage girls saw hordes of angry men being led by two men and a woman armed with sonic pulse guns, they knew that fighting was futile and surrendered immediately. Of course, there were some who tried to fight back, and it was these girls that the Critic intended to combat.

"Here we go," said the Critic as he swung the crane's magnet towards a group of girls holding spray cans.

The magnet attracted the spray cans the girls were holding onto, leaving the girls with no defense against a congregation of vengeful men.

"Get that one, and that one!" yelled HurricaneAubrey as she directed the Critic towards several girls also holding spray cans.

"Stubborn some of these girls are," commented Wheatley as he saw some girls holding onto the spray cans even while they were being pulled up high into the air by magnetism.

The Critic lowered the magnet to allow the girls a chance to escape with their lives without falling to their deaths. All the girls took the option of life.

"The tide of the battle is now in our favor!" exclaimed the Critic as he continued using the crane as a weapon of war.

Hyper Fangirl awoke from her unconsciousness to see HurricaneAubrey and Wheatley placing their right and left hands respectively on the Critic's shoulders. Filled with rage and through the power of misguided love, Hyper Fangirl burst through the ropes binding her and pushed aside Wheatley and HurricaneAubrey. The Critic turned to see what was going on. He turned around and saw that Hyper Fangirl was choking him with her hands.

"If I can't have you, then no one will!" screamed Hyper Fangirl with anger as she continued choking the Critic.

Regaining their footing, Wheatley proceeded to grab onto Hyper Fangirl by the waist from behind while HurricaneAubrey pulled the Critic away from the insane girl. Hyper Fangirl gnashed her teeth at the Critic as she tried to release herself from Wheatley's grip.

"Now how about you just calm down," said Wheatley as he struggled to hold onto Hyper Fangirl.

In desperation, Hyper Fangirl took a huge step back, and using Wheatley's body, she broke the cab's window.

"Get off me!" shouted Hyper Fangirl as she leaned her back towards the human-sized hole in the broken window.

"Never!" shouted Wheatley.

"Have it your way!" yelled Hyper Fangirl with a derisive laugh as she thrusted her back towards the window to shake off Wheatley.

To her misfortune, Wheatley held firmly onto her body as she caused the two of them to fall out of the broken window. The Critic and HurricaneAubrey rushed to see Hyper Fangirl's look of horror and Wheatley's sorrow as they fell to the hard ground. From high above in the crane's cab, HurricaneAubrey and the Critic saw that Wheatley hadn't considered hanging onto his grappling hook as they saw a gruesome mess down below. Both agents on the crane removed their military helmets in solidarity to their fallen solider. The Critic and HurricaneAubrey wanted to say something to honor Wheatley's sacrifice, but they knew in their hearts that there was no time for mourning right now. They had a mission to complete.

"Let's continue operating the crane," spoke the Critic. "For Wheatley."

"For Wheatley," said HurricaneAubrey in a mournful tone as she joined the Critic in using the crane to combat the teenage girls.

Unaware of Wheatley's ghastly fate, Rick, the Nerd, and Jennxpenn were preoccupied with opening the last cage of men.

"That's the last of them," said the Nerd as he saw the final group of men rushing past the agents to return to the outside world.

"Want some! Get some!" shouted Rick as he began tossing teenage girls into the air with his one arm as his Super Scope had been broken beyond repair.

"I think we can call it a day," said Jennxpenn. "Can we go home now?"

"Not so fast!" screamed a voice off in the distance.

The three agents saw that Overly Attached Girlfriend was eyeing them like a deranged dog.

"Leave it all to me," said Rick with an air of confidence as he flexed his one arm. "I got this."

"Are you sure?" said the Nerd. "Aren't you underestimating these girls?"

Rick motioned his hand towards Overly Attached Girlfriend like an annoying fly.

"It's one on one, and she's only human. All her followers are out of commission. I can handle her. Just you watch," replied Rick.

Without another word, Rick began running towards Overly Attached Girlfriend like a football player. Expecting to tackle her, Rick braced himself for full impact. Unluckily for him, Overly Attached Girlfriend simply moved out of the way, causing Rick to run past her.

"Oh, why you little bitch!" shouted Rick as he turned around and ran towards her again.

It was an almost comedic scene as the Nerd and Jennxpenn watched as Rick continued his quest to tackle Overly Attached Girlfriend, with each unsuccessful attempt being even more pathetic.

"At least he'll tire out the Overly Attached Girlfriend since he is a machine," said Jennxpenn as she watched Overly Attached Girlfriend dodge Rick yet again.

"Time for a new strategy!" yelled the Nerd towards Rick.

Hearing the Nerd's word of advice, Rick thought about what he could do differently. Looking at his remaining arm, Rick saw that he had the necessary tool needed for victory. He started running towards Overly Attached Girlfriend, but instead of keeping his arm close to his body, he outstretched it to grab onto Overly Attached Girlfriend's neck. Slamming her against a cargo crate, Rick began choking Overly Attached Girlfriend to the point of unconsciousness.

"We got her," said Jennxpenn. "Now let's get out of this hellhole."

Rick looked back at the Nerd and Jennxpenn with a grin. He then turned to Overly Attached Girlfriend expecting her to either be entering a deep slumber or terrified beyond belief. Rick saw that Overly Attached Girlfriend was smiling despite her predicament. Using her two human hands, she grasped Rick's wrist and crushed it. If he could feel pain, Rick would have been howling in pain. But despite lacking pain sensors, Rick was incapacitated both physically and mentally as Overly Attached Girlfriend began ripping his arm off. As his remaining arm was pulled out of its socket, Rick's cockiness over his technological superiority over the humans was biting him back as Overly Attached Girlfriend twisted his legs.

"Don't worry! I got this!" screamed Rick with false optimism.

The Nerd and Jennxpenn watched in horror as they heard mechanical parts being pushed together and pulled apart. Rick saw as Overly Attached Girlfriend was on top of him as she pulled off his military helmet.

"Don't do it!" yelled Rick, now fully comprehending what being vulnerable and merciless felt like.

Jennxpenn and the Nerd began rushing to save Rick when an object came flying towards them. The item landed right in front of the Nerd and Jennxpenn. They saw that it was Rick's head decapitated from his body. Having a brief look at Rick's twitching eyes and unhinged jaw from his head, the Nerd and Jennxpenn began running from Overly Attached Girlfriend, firing their Super Scopes towards her direction. They saw that the sonic pulses bounced off Overly Attached Girlfriend as she stepped over the electrical sparks coming from Rick's head.

"What the hell?" said Jennxpenn. "Why aren't our Super Scopes working?"

"It must be the power of love," said the Nerd as he continued firing his Super Scope without making much impact.

"Really?" asked Jennxpenn as she did a double take at this idea.

"It's the power of unhealthy and nonconsensual love," clarified the Nerd as he saw Overly Attached Girlfriend's bulging eyes.

"I'll give you a poem in celebration of Valentine's Day," said Overly Attached Girlfriend as she chased the Nerd. "Roses are red, violets are blue, be my Valentine, I'm waiting for you. Blood is red, bruises are blue, don't say no."

"No!" shouted the Nerd. "Let's go this way, Jennxpenn."

The Nerd saw that Jennxpenn was nowhere to be found.

"Shit! Must have lost her in all of this confusion," said the Nerd.

The Nerd turned to face Overly Attached Girlfriend. Standing his ground, he repeatedly fired his Super Scope, hoping that at least one sonic pulse would throw Overly Attached Girlfriend back. It was not to be. Realizing that even the accuracy of his Konami LaserScope combined with his Super Scope wasn't going to stop her, the Nerd began retreating, formulating possible plans in his head while doing so.

"That won't work. That won't work either," thought the Nerd as his list of potential strategies was going narrower and more absurd.

In the crane's cab, the Critic and HurricaneAubrey were rubbing the sweat off their foreheads as they saw the warehouse now empty of any people.

"We're done," said HurricaneAubrey. "Tell me we're done."

"We're done here," said the Critic as he pushed the button summoning the crane's elevator. "Let's get down."

The slow-moving elevator began its ascent. The Critic and HurricaneAubrey waited for the elevator to reach the cab. After a few long minutes, the elevator made it to the top. HurricaneAubrey and the Critic stepped into the elevator, and began their descent to the ground floor. They saw the whole warehouse as the elevator made its way down.

"Won't you be my boyfriend. Won't you be my boyfriend," sang a voice of a desperate woman.

Off in the distance, the Critic and HurricaneAubrey saw that Overly Attached Girlfriend was chasing the Nerd, with the Nerd's weapons being useless against her.

"Damnit!" shouted the Critic. "We got to help the Nerd."

HurricaneAubrey slammed against the elevator's door in frustration for its excruciatingly slow speed.

"Oh, come on!" yelled HurricaneAubrey in protest of the elevator's movement.

Jennxpenn was all alone in a maze of crates. All the crates looked the same to her as she tried to chart her next course of action.

"I can escape out of here," thought Jennxpenn. "That way I don't have to face the wrath of Overly Attached Girlfriend."

Not even a few paces towards the exit of the mining facility that Jennxpenn stopped in her tracks.

"No. Internet Police agents are always prepared for the unpredictable. That implies that they don't run in the face of danger," said Jennxpenn with a perplexed look on her face. "Okay. Maybe not the best analogy, but it still is a good message."

Jennxpenn then noticed a forklift with the keys still in the ignition switch.

"I have just the thing that would help me run in the face of danger," said a smiling Jennxpenn.

The Nerd reached a dead end in a labyrinth of crates as Overly Attached Girlfriend was marching towards him.

"Won't you be my boyfriend?" asked Overly Attached Girlfriend in a sweet tone. "I know you pissed me off when you crippled my mail order business by releasing all of my merchandising. But I'm a nice and caring girl. How about you become my husband and live happily ever after with me."

"What sort of happily ever after are you thinking of?" asked the Nerd.

"Just what all good girlfriends do, Angry Video Game Nerd. Lock you up in a dungeon for your protection. Kill all your friends and family for keeping you away from me. Burn an entire town for us and our children to have enough room for our dream house. Please spend the rest of your life with me," said Overly Attached Girlfriend. "Please say I do."

"I don't!" shouted the Nerd.

"Then death do us part," said Overly Attached Girlfriend frowning as she approached the Nerd with her eyes narrowing for the kill.

The Nerd knew that his Super Scope was useless. Tossing it aside, the Nerd held up his fists in preparation for a fight. With Rick's brutal demise still fresh in his mind, the Nerd was trying to focus on using his wits and strengths to defeat Overly Attached Girlfriend.

"Get away from him, you bitch!" shouted a female voice.

Overly Attached Girlfriend turned to her right and saw a blonde woman seated on a forklift.

"Jennxpenn," thought the Nerd. "What is she doing?"

To answer the Nerd's question, Jennxpenn pushed on the forklift's gas pedal at maximum speed. Overly Attached Girlfriend had little time to respond as the forklift crashed right into her. Caught off guard, Overly Attached Girlfriend went flying into the air and landed with a resounding thud. Jennxpenn parked the forklift right in front of the Nerd.

"Thanks," said the Nerd simply as he approached Jennxpenn.

Footsteps were arriving. The Nerd and Jennxpenn looked to see who else they would fight. To their relief, it was the Critic and HurricaneAubrey. They had passed by Overly Attached Girlfriend on their way to their fellow agents.

"Looks like Overly Attached Girlfriend won't harm anyone ever again," responded the Critic.

In the days following Valentine's Day, the four agents were back at the Internet Police Complex in Boston. You would think that defeating the teenage girls and freeing all the men would be a great victory for the Internet Police. But the four agents had little reason for celebration. Not with Wheatley and Rick destroyed beyond recognition. Despite being machines, the Critic, HurricaneAubrey, and Jennxpenn stood by the two androids as the Nerd examined their bodies on operating tables in the Enrichment Center.

"Glados…Glados…," said Rick from his detached and barely functional head.

"Chell…Chell…," said Wheatley from his mutilated mechanical body.

"How's the diagnosis, Nerd?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"I'm afraid they won't be in service for quite a while," answered the Nerd as he used tweezers to remove pieces of twisted microchips from Wheatley's crushed chest.

Wanting a break from the Nerd's gloomy diagnosis of the two androids, Jennxpenn went out to the hallway and sat on a bench, and taking out her portable device, she began watching news reports of the Idaho incident.

"That Jennxpenn," said HurricaneAubrey shaking her head as she turned to look at Jennxpenn.

The Critic looked through the Enrichment Center's glass windows as Jennxpenn was smiling to herself while watching her portable device. She apparently forgot to put on her headphones as the three agents in the Enrichment Center heard reporters interviewing the men who had been freed from the Idaho mining facility.

"And when Overly Attached Girlfriend saw the blonde woman driving the forklift, she must have known it was all over from there," commented one man. "That blonde woman saved us."

"She singlehandedly saved the day," said another man.

"I think I'll put off dating for a long time to come," said Bad Luck Brian. "I'm just unlucky when it comes to women. Maybe even life in general."

Jennxpenn looked over to HurricaneAubrey, sticking out her tongue in a mocking manner. HurricaneAubrey was tempted to do the same, but she restrained herself as she looked at the Critic.

"I don't know what to do with her," said HurricaneAubrey. "Did I really not contribute much to the Valentine's Day mission?"

"You did help me fight off those teenage girls when we freed Wheatley and the other men from their cages," assured the Critic.

"I don't mean to be an asshole, but you didn't take down the main bad girls. Hyper Fangirl was defeated by Wheatley," said the Nerd.

Wheatley's fingers from his detached hand twitched slightly as the Nerd placed a blanket over Rick's head. The Nerd continued speaking much to HurricaneAubrey's displeasure.

"And Jennxpenn did take out Overly Attached Girlfriend all by herself, something not even Rick could do. If it wasn't for Jennxpenn, who knows what Overly Attached Girlfriend would have done to me," said the Nerd. "What I'm saying is this. Let Jennxpenn enjoy her moment of glory. Maybe she has more to offer than you think. I doubted her before the Idaho mission, and now I'm having a change of heart. Maybe you should as well."

The Nerd continued tinkering with the androids' hardware as HurricaneAubrey turned to the Critic for advice.

"I think Jennxpenn should be reprimanded for disrespectful behavior," said HurricaneAubrey. "She is my apprentice after all."

"We have enough hate in the world. All we need is love," said the Nerd. "Not the murderous and kidnapping type of love."

HurricaneAubrey looked again at the barely living states of Wheatley and Rick as the Critic injected himself into the conversation.

"Why don't you do it already?" questioned the Critic. "Go on and punish her. You have that authority."

HurricaneAubrey looked down and thought about what her next course of action would be. She has the power to mold Jennxpenn into the model Internet Police agent. But at what cost? She didn't want to be a close-minded, inflexible authority figure that was demonized by popular culture.

"But like the Nerd said, we have enough hate and strife in the world," said the Critic. "Maybe compromise and reconciliation would be the better option dealing with Jennxpenn. But I'll leave you to decide on the best course of action."

"Maybe compromise would be the best course of action," said HurricaneAubrey. "What do you think, Critic?"

"Once again, I'll leave it up to you, HurricaneAubrey," said the Critic rubbing his forehead. "I'm not a love and relationship expert after all."

HurricaneAubrey started pacing the Enrichment Center as she thought about what to do with Jennxpenn.

"I could start by thinking about what we have in common," thought HurricaneAubrey. "I know that alone won't fix our relationship, but it would be a starting point.

HurricaneAubrey saw the portable device Jennxpenn was holding.

"I got it!" said HurricaneAubrey.

HurricaneAubrey went out the Enrichment Center and seated herself next to Jennxpenn.

"What do you want?" asked Jennxpenn in a dismissive tone.

"How about I show you the main reason why I became an Internet celebrity and eventually an Internet Police agent just like you," said HurricaneAubrey in a friendly manner. "Does that intrigue you?"

Jennxpenn looked up from her portable device and directed her eyes towards HurricaneAubrey's device. She saw a video called 51 Things I Found Around My House. The Critic saw what he hoped would be the beginnings of a renewed relationship between Jennxpenn and HurricaneAubrey. He prayed that it would be better than the one-sided relationship with Hyper Fangirl.

"All we need is genuine love in the world," said the Critic.

 **Please review this story to provide me some advice on improving it. What other internet personalities or memes should the Internet Police encounter?**


	5. The Ides of March Part 1

**I do not own any of the internet personalities or memes presented in this story.**

The Internet Police: Year in Review

The Ides of March, Part 1

Laissez les bon temps rouler. Let the good times roll. And the good times were indeed rolling in New Orleans, Louisiana. Known as the Big Easy for its reputation of constant partying, New Orleans was in the middle of celebrating Mardi Gras, a period of revelry before the austerity of the Christian Lenten season. And in no other place in the world was Mardi Gras celebrated with such unbridled energy and debauchery than Bourbon Street. This year's Mardi Gras theme was the colorful history of New Orleans, with each elaborate float depicting New Orleans through the ages. One float depicted Andrew Jackson's victory over the British in the War of 1812. Another showcased the city's key role in World War II by the creator of the allied Higgins boats used in amphibious landings in the European and Pacific theaters. And the other floats covered other notable events in New Orleans' history such as the rise of Jazz music. And everyone, from the krewe members throwing beads from their floats to the spectators catching said trinkets, were dressed in retro attire. Amidst the congregations were HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn. Dressed up as 1920s mobsters, the two Internet Police agents prowled through Bourbon Street as purple, green, and gold confetti were raining down on them.

"Why couldn't we get more interesting costumes?" asked Jennxpenn as she went past partygoers wearing modern clothes in rebelling against the historical theming.

"Because then we won't be able to rendezvous with the Irish mobsters without attracting suspicion for not adopting their dress code," answered HurricaneAubrey in an annoyed tone. "I guess you haven't been paying attention again."

"I know everything there is to know about this mission," retorted Jennxpenn.

"Tell me then," said HurricaneAubrey expressing doubt.

"Very well," said Jennxpenn. "We intercepted a message about Irish mobsters planning something big in a large American city. The funny thing is that we discovered this scheme through snail mail rather than email. I wonder why these mobsters are so backwards that they needed to resort to snail mail to communicate their nefarious plans."

HurricaneAubrey wanted to complain to Jennxpenn about not fitting in to this year's Mardi Gras theme of nostalgia, but wanting not to cause antagonism while in the middle of a mission, she maintained silence as Jennxpenn continued explaining the purpose of being in New Orleans.

"The snail mail message said to meet this mobster in the French Quarter during Mardi Gras. He would be playing a traditional Irish song on a trumpet," said Jennxpenn. "And dressed as a 1920s gangster. Is that enough for you HurricaneAubrey?"

"Yes," said HurricaneAubrey in a non-sarcastic voice. "Now let's listen for the Irish music."

HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn tried to listen for a distinctive Irish melody in the middle of the raucous partygoers. They were moving past tourists who were drinking shots of alcohol.

"Hear anything?" asked Jennxpenn to HurricaneAubrey.

HurricaneAubrey listened for any signs of Irish music. She could only hear the following songs being played by float singers and Jazz musicians. They only heard songs like Second Line march and Feet Don't Fail Me Now as they squeezed their way through the crowds.

"Maybe we'll see a trumpet being played by the Irish gangster," thought Jennxpenn.

Jennxpenn then saw a trumpet being played by a musician on a 1920s float. She started rushing towards it, but then she paused in the middle of the street.

"Don't rush into it. I don't want to mess things up," thought Jennxpenn who knew HurricaneAubrey was probably predicting she would screw up.

Jennxpenn saw the musician was an African American man with likely no Irish blood. More importantly, she saw that he was playing the Second Line march. Jennxpenn was glad that she didn't get onto the float and tackled the innocent man onto the street. Imagine how much of a ruckus she would cause for subduing an unarmed man in the middle of Mardi Gras. She was thankful that she wouldn't have to see the look of disappointment and anger HurricaneAubrey would show considering this horrible mistake. Jennxpenn went back to accompanying HurricaneAubrey as they were strolling along the historic architecture of the French Quarter.

"I don't think our mobster is here today," said HurricaneAubrey. "What's going on?"

"Beats me," said Jennxpenn. "How about we get onto the roof of these buildings? Maybe we'll see the Irish mobster from there."

"Good thinking," said HurricaneAubrey.

Jennxpenn smiled as the two agents went into a historical French Quarter hotel. They walked past guests that were formal compared to the partying crowds on the street. The guests were dressed in elegant ballgowns and masquerade masks. Perhaps they were practicing going to a masquerade ball later in the evening. Of course, the two agents had no time for dancing as they reached the roof of the building. The two agents reached the edge of the roof and took out their binoculars. They looked high and low, but they saw nothing.

"Maybe he decided not to show up after all," suggested Jennxpenn.

"Maybe," said HurricaneAubrey as she looked through her binocular over Canal Street. "I think we'll call the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd to let them know."

HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn got up to contact the Nerd and the Critic using their portable devices when they heard crashes. They turned around, and looking through their binoculars, they saw men jumping across rooftops in the French Quarter.

"Looks like the Critic and the Nerd found something," said HurricaneAubrey. "And they need our help."

The oldest part of New Orleans was now the battleground between the Irish mobster and the two male Internet Police agents. The crowds of partygoers were mostly oblivious to the chase above them, believing the gunfire to be a part of the Mardi Gras celebration.

"You haven't heard everything from me," said the brown-haired Irish mobster as he took out a pistol to fire upon the Critic and Nerd.

"We got everything we needed to know Lucky Charms," said the Nerd armed with a pistol.

"Hey that's racist!" shouted Jennxpenn as she tackled the Nerd. "I'm an Irish American, and I'm offended that you decided to name him after a cereal brand."

"That's his actual gangster name!" shouted the Nerd as he was being pinned down by Jennxpenn. "And now Lucky Charms is getting away."

Jennxpenn expected HurricaneAubrey to express disappointment in her. But she saw that HurricaneAubrey was already pursuing Lucky Charms across the rooftops.

"Looks like there will be blood at the end of this rainbow," said Lucky Charms as he fired his pistol at HurricaneAubrey.

"Looks like you'll need more than the luck of the Irish to get past us," said HurricaneAubrey as she fired her pistol at Lucky Charms.

Lucky Charm continued dodging the bullets shot by HurricaneAubrey as he ran faster and faster across the roof. HurricaneAubrey jumped after him. Unfortunately for her, the roofs of the French Quarter weren't exactly designed for rooftop jumping, and unsurprising, she fell through a rooftop and into a room full of drunken tourists.

"I think we had enough for today," said a drunken woman catching sight of HurricaneAubrey falling through the ceiling.

Lucky Charms smiled as he headed towards Canal Street.

"It's up to me now!" shouted the Critic as he jumped after Lucky Charms.

Not wanting to take his chances with the Critic, Lucky Charms leaped right off the roof and through an upper story window. He found himself in a cooking school full of amateur chefs. Seeing a man with a pistol in his hand, the chefs screamed as they scurried out of the room just as the Critic went through the same broken window. Lucky Charms ran between the stoves and ovens cooking up New Orleans' iconic dishes. Lucky Charms tried firing his pistol, but it was empty. Looking around him, he found other weapons to use against the Critic.

"Have some gumbo!" shouted Lucky Charms as threw the simmering gumbo from a pot to the Critic.

The Critic dodged the gumbo projectile as he grabbed a pan containing jambalaya.

"Serving jambalaya for one angry Irishman!" yelled the Critic as he threw jambalaya at Lucky Charms.

The jambalaya missed Lucky Charms. The Critic and Lucky Charms were now armed with a pan and pot respectively.

"En garde," said the Critic as he swung his pan at Lucky Charms.

The pan clanged with the pot as the Critic and Lucky Charms battled each other with these kitchen items. Each time the pot and pan were in contact, the Critic and Lucky Charms were sweating. Perhaps it was the tense situation between them. Maybe it was because of the heat coming from the still running stoves and ovens. This gave Lucky Charms an idea.

"It's been a while since New Orleans had a real fire. Today is that lucky day unless you have other ideas," said Lucky Charms as he turned up the heat of the various stoves and ovens around him.

The flames coming from the stoves and ovens started spreading all over the kitchen. Feeling confident that the Critic would be distracted in trying to stop the fire from engulfing the entire city, Lucky Charms broke through the window and climbed up onto the roof. Once again, he was making his way across rooftops. He smiled as he reached the edge of Canal Street.

"Fuck you, Lucky Charms," said a voice behind him.

Lucky Charms looked behind him. He saw the Critic pointing a pistol at him. Evidently, he had successfully stopped the kitchen fire from devouring New Orleans.

"Hands up and freeze," said the Critic.

Lucky Charms placed his hands up in the air.

"Why do you keep chasing me? What else is there to know? I told you everything. I told you about a mob meeting in Milwaukee, Wisconsin at an abandoned beer factory. And before I knew you were imposters, I did tell you about our little scheme to destroy the Internet Police from the inside. Did I explain everything to you?" said Lucky Charms.

"You didn't explain everything to me," said the Critic. "Tell me who exactly are you working for and what is their master plan."

"There is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow," said Lucky Charms.

"What?!" shouted the Critic. "Tell me your master plan!"

Lucky Charms leaped off the building and landed promptly on the 1920s float that was going down Canal Street. Luckily for Lucky Charms, the float had a soft floor like a bouncy house, and thus, his fall was pleasant rather than deadly. To complement Lucky Charms' luck, he was serenaded by New Orleans jazz music, which flourished during his favorite time in history. Apparently, the musicians assumed that Lucky Charms was a part of the parade, and thus, they continued playing their instruments as Lucky Charms was dancing on stage. He was going to dance his way into the sunset a free man.

"I'm the luckiest man in the world," shouted Lucky Charms on stage.

Lucky Charms then turned to point his finger at a female musician playing the trombone.

"Play me off," said Lucky Charms.

The female musician played the trombone, and out came the losing horns of The Price is Right. Lucky Charms' enthusiasm fell.

"Sorry," said the female musician in an adorably sad manner.

Lucky Charms decided to grab the female musician by her collar and lifted his other hand. He was attempting to punch her for soiling the name of jazz. He heard boos and angry insults from the surrounding partygoers. Lucky Charms saw the female musician obscuring her identity by looking down, with her 1920s hat also giving her anonymity. He also saw tears dripping down onto the floor, which further contributed to the crowd's hostility towards him. The female musician looked up at him, and he saw the last thing he wanted to see: the brunette spy who was chasing him on the rooftops.

"Sorry," said HurricaneAubrey with a casual smile.

HurricaneAubrey promptly knocked Lucky Charms unconscious using her trombone, making it look like an accident. The crowd cheered as she dealt justice on the mean man.

"So sorry," whispered HurricaneAubrey.

Since 1862, the Café Du Monde in the French Quarter served its patrons beignets and drinks such as chocolate milk and coffee. Union soldiers during the Civil War, jazz musicians, and returning World War II soldiers were all customers of the Café Du Monde. And now Café Du Monde had some new customers whose names were the Nostalgia Critic, HurricaneAubrey, Jennxpenn, and the Angry Video Game Nerd. The agents were still in their 1920s attire as they dined on beignets and coffee.

"Now let's get down to business. What more information did you and Jennxpenn find out from our captured guest Lucky Charms?" asked the Critic to HurricaneAubrey.

HurricaneAubrey used a napkin to wipe the powdered sugar from her mouth before speaking.

"I and Jennxpenn were responsible for interrogating him in a secured location. I tried asking him standard interrogation questions like who is your leader and why are you a part of the mob. For several hours, I got nothing from Lucky Charms," said HurricaneAubrey.

"That's when I came in," said Jennxpenn. "Being of Irish descent, I knew that HurricaneAubrey, an Italian girl, had no business dealing with the Irish man. I decided to speak to him on his own terms by offering him a bowl of Lucky Charms cereal."

"Is that what you call traditional Irish food?" questioned HurricaneAubrey with a doubtful look on her face.

"What other Irish food did you think to give to Lucky Charms while we were interrogating him?" asked Jennxpenn back.

"Uh…potatoes," stated HurricaneAubrey, who knew that this was probably not the best answer.

"I think that would have offended Lucky Charms for reminding him of what happened to Ireland in the 18th century," said Jennxpenn.

Jennxpenn ate two handfuls of beignets into her mouth. As the three agents tried to gather their thoughts regarding Jennxpenn's unusual interrogation, Jennxpenn was enjoying her meal. Compared to many other sit-down restaurants, Café du Monde had a more casual and relaxed atmosphere, both in attire and meal options. She could gobble up beignets with her bare hands without worrying about being scolded for not holding her utensils properly or having her hat leaning heavily to the left. As Jennxpenn drank a whole cup of coffee in one gulp, she continued explaining her use of cereal diplomacy.

"Like I said, I offered Lucky Charms a box of Lucky Charms cereal to loosen the tension between us," answered Jennxpenn. "Though he was reluctant to do so, Lucky Charms started telling us that he is a part of the Irish mob led by a man named Liam "the Leprechaun" O'Hannan, and he gave us more information about where the mob would be meeting next in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The mob will be meeting at an abandoned beer factory on the edge of Lake Michigan. And you only have to thank me for being Irish enough to get through Lucky Charms."

Jennxpenn gulped another cup of coffee in one go as HurricaneAubrey gently sipped her coffee.

"I think it was because of strategic patience that Lucky Charms gave us the valuable information," thought HurricaneAubrey.

HurricaneAubrey was about to speak up against Jennxpenn's use of Lucky Charms cereal in getting the Irish mobster to confess.

"Maybe you should try to be open and accepting of her rather than outright dismissing her," said a voice in HurricaneAubrey's head. "Maybe the Lucky Charms cereal did convince Lucky Charms after all. Don't be a bitch who can't accept that you're wrong sometimes."

The four agents finished the last of their beignets and coffee as HurricaneAubrey went into an alternative direction from criticizing Jennxpenn.

"How about we inform Chief Kristina Horner of this news?" suggested HurricaneAubrey.

"Good idea," said the Nerd.

Over the waters of Lake Michigan, a helicopter was flying towards the abandoned city of Chicago. Once one of the largest city in America, Chicago was now only fit for urban explorers and the occasional squatter with nowhere else to go. As the helicopter flew closer to the place once deemed as America's Second City, the occupants within the flying vehicle could only wonder if Chicago's destruction during the Great Schism of America was worth it. Two of those passengers were Chief Kristina Horner, who replaced the former Chief after the Great Schism, and Institute of Internet Studies scientist TamashiiHiroka, who specialized in Pokémon memes and other Pokémon related internet phenomena. As TamashiiHiroka was transferring to becoming an Internet Police agent, Chief Horner thought it would be prudent to have TamashiiHiroka be exposed to the worst of the worst the Internet Police has in captivity before going out in the field. Besides, she was going to a conference in the next few days with the top Internet Police and Institute of Internet Studies officials at the Art Institute of Chicago.

"You seem tense," said Kristina. "Are you sure you want to become a full-fledged Internet Police agent if you are scared of meeting the subjects in the Asylum?"

"I could say that I'm not scared Chief Horner, but of course, you would immediately know that I'm lying," insisted TamashiiHiroka who was now looking over the shores of Chicago now populated by fallen skyscrapers. "I would be the very last person who would want to be an Internet Police agent, but seeing the devastation caused by George Zazz and his armies, I think it would be in my best interest to join the agency."

The helicopter flew over the elevated subway lines covered with derailed subway cars.

"I understand that many are angry with the destruction of Chicago by the rebellion led by the Critic, the Nerd, and HurricaneAubrey, but what was the alternative. I'll tell you what the alternative was," said TamashiiHiroka. "I was in California when George Zazz and his armies rampaged through the state. I was in the state going to several Pokémon conventions and fan gatherings. George Zazz and his son Henry Zazz decided it was in western civilization's best interest to burn down the Pokémon meetings using the might of their armies and the backing of several Californian mayors."

TamashiiHiroka closed her eyes as she recalled what happened when Pokémon fans were spotted by George Zazz's adherents.

"I saw what George Zazz was doing throughout California and probably across America on the television screens. I could still see the flames of the fires burning those cute Pokémon dolls as George Zazz's soldiers dragged Pokémon fans out of their houses and paraded them into trucks for rehabilitation," said TamashiiHiroka as she visualized the carnage. "I could still hear the soldiers saying 'Burn ye children of the wicked one,' as they casted flamethrowers upon the innocent pink Clefairy and Skitty dolls."

As the helicopter was starting its descent between Chicago's dilapidated buildings, TamashiiHiroka continued with her traumatic memories.

"I never wanted to be a soldier. I just wanted refuge from a world that was divided with politics, religion, and social class. George Zazz and his cronies were only exacerbating the divisions of the world. And the only escape from this cruel and mad world was Pokémon. I tried to be reasonable by simply enjoying Pokémon from a bystander's perspective. I would not engage in active guerrilla warfare against George Zazz's armies, and instead, I would retreat into isolated corners of California to discuss and engage in Pokémon activities along with a few other friends," said TamashiiHiroka. "But I eventually couldn't take it anymore when Henry Zazz invaded the San Diego Comic-Con I was attending. After several months of suppressing my love for Pokémon to the public, I finally had the courage of going to an open forum that showcased a love for Pokémon and other nerdy interests, and just my luck, Henry Zazz arrived with his soldiers to persecute the fans."

Chief Horner saw TamashiiHiroka looking out the window with her clasp hand underneath her chin as she recalled how she decided to fight back against George Zazz and his allies.

"I saw the flamethrowers and cattle prods racing through the crowds of casual fans and cosplayers," said TamashiiHiroka. "As soon as the tranquilizer darts started firing, something was flowing through me that I once tried to control: rage. I just couldn't stand it anymore. Was it a crime to love Pokémon? Did Pokémon fans deserve tranquilizers darts, flamethrowers, and cattle prods? I along with several other Pokémon fans rallied together to fight back against Henry Zazz. I never wanted to be involved in the rebellion, but what choice did I have? There was no running away this time. I could go into the intricate details of me using water guns to counter Henry Zazz's flamethrowers, singing the Pokémon theme as a war cry, and rushing past Game of Thrones fans yielding swords and makeshift wildfire, but I think you now know why I want to become an Internet Police agent in the first place."

The helicopter landed near the Chicago Water Tower, one of the few surviving buildings of the Great Chicago Fire of 1871. Chief Horner stayed in the helicopter rather than getting out immediately. She was thinking about what TamashiiHiroka had to see during the Great Schism. It made Chief Horner's search for Jamie Dubs in Scandinavia, while essential to stopping George Zazz, seem tame compared to what TamashiiHiroka experienced back in America. Chief Horner wanted to dwell more on the matter but her role as the new Chief prompted her to divert that subject for another time.

"This is the Nostalgia Critic. I have information about the Irish mob," said the Critic on his Electronic Database to Chief Horner.

Stationed just outside an abandoned beer factory on the outskirts of Milwaukee, the Critic and Nerd were on the lookout for any other mob members approaching the brewery while HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn were inside. It has been a few days since the four agents discussed with Chief Horner about what they found in New Orleans. The agents were going to find out more truths about the Irish mob. In the middle of the night, the Critic and Nerd were sharing their reservations about how well HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn could work together.

"Hopefully, this will build up a relationship between the two ladies," commented the Critic.

"I'm not sure who I'm more worried about," said the Nerd. "HurricaneAubrey's insistence on being the professional of the two, thus rejecting any suggestions or help from Jennxpenn. Or Jennxpenn's rookie status causing her to take unnecessary risks to prove to everyone she is a true Internet Police agent."

"I think they will compensate for their own insecurities," said the Critic.

The Critic's Electronic Database lit up.

"It's from the Chief," said the Critic as he answered the video phone message. "We're currently serving as backup for Internet Police agents HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn in case the situation escalates."

"Good," said Chief Horner. "I'm just letting you know that Liam "The Leprechaun" O'Hannan has no relation to the character from the Annoying Orange.

"Thank goodness," said the Critic. "I thought we had to deal with a case of killer annoying oranges."

Chief Horner chuckled before getting to the reason she called him in the first place.

"However, we recently uncovered evidence of a larger scheme going on. It seems as if the Irish mob have allied themselves with the Italian mafia in Europe," said Chief Horner with a serious countenance.

"What?" said the Critic. "What is the big picture here. Surely, we're not dealing with the run of the mill Irish mob if they managed to ally with the Italian mafia.

"I cannot deny the implications," said Chief Horner. "Our investigations indicate that they are on the verge of a major operation years in the making. As you already know, the mob and the mafia appear to be communicating through paper mail and within the darkest reaches of the internet. Which explains our lack of precise details on what exactly they are planning."

"I theorize that the Irish mob and the Italian mafia are going to launch the rumored War of European Succession I have been investigating about," said the Nerd with urgency. "I believe I sent you the file regarding rising mafia activities and reports of stockpiles of weapons coming from Africa."

"Let's not jump to conclusions," said Chief Horner. "We need all the facts before we act. There's enough falsehoods and contradictions on the internet and in real life. Let's see what HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn find out at the mob meeting."

"Affirmative," said the Critic as he caught a glimpse of TamashiiHiroka in the background. The hairs on the back of his neck were rising. "Over and out."

The Critic turned off his electronic database.

"I did warn you about the War of European Succession," said the Nerd. "But you insisted on concentrating on the Idaho case. Fuck. We might have put on end to this unholy alliance between the mob and the mafia if we had our priorities on the War of European Succession in February."

"And leave those men behind in Idaho," commented the Critic. "We did what was right at the time. Still, better late than never as we're in the month of March now. It's up to Jennxpenn and HurricaneAubrey to bring us closer to ending the War of European Succession."

HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn were searching for an opening into the dilapidated brewery without going through the front door. Jennxpenn was holding a pistol with both of her hands as she leaned against the factory's outer wall in preparation for a possible ambush. HurricaneAubrey's pistol was in her pocket as she as carrying a large purse.

"What are you carrying in that purse of yours, HurricaneAubrey?" asked Jennxpenn.

HurricaneAubrey placed the purse on the ground, and took out four black film canisters and an aerosol spray can.

"I don't think these pieces of crap will help us against the mobsters," said Jennxpenn. "Luckily for us, I am an Irish-American who will help you get past your shortcomings of not being Irish. Unlike your poor and pathetic Italian heritage, I know everything there is to know about Ireland and its history. Just leave it all to me."

HurricaneAubrey was trying not to bicker with Jennxpenn, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. They eventually found a small opening in the factory's perimeter, and they squeezed through it to reach inside. Approaching several empty beer barrels and crouching behind them, HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn watched as they saw the Irish mob gather in front of a tall, red-haired man.

"My name is Patrick O'Henry. So, you better listen up," said the man named Patrick O'Henry. "Our boss The Leprechaun has called upon all Irish Americans to take up the cause to defeat our greatest foe: The Internet Police."

HurricaneAubrey gave a silent gasp as she watched O'Henry outline the Irish mob's plans against the Internet Police.

"As of this moment, our operatives have infiltrated the Internet Police, and right now, the top Internet Police officials have gathered themselves in the ruins of Chicago, Illinois, most of whom came because our moles told them to come. Of course, some came for reasons unrelated to us. Regardless, we will be able to cripple the Internet Police's leadership when we kill them in Chicago," stated O'Henry. "Even if the leaders and their subordinates manage to avoid death by our moles, then they will have to contend with the main attack. That's right my fellow Irishmen, the mob army equipped with submachine guns and vintage 1920s automobiles will wipe out the rest of the Internet Police elites on the streets of Chicago."

HurricaneAubrey saw O'Henry ramble on about how pleasurable it would be to see the blood flowing out of the skulls of fallen Internet Police agents and their entrails being dragged by their cars' tires. She turned to see if Jennxpenn was paying attention to O'Henry's plans. Much to her dismay, she saw Jennxpenn watching kitten videos on her portable device.

"You're unbelievable!" whispered HurricaneAubrey. "How can you entertain yourself at a time like this?!"

"When I'm hearing about skulls being crushed and entrails littering the streets of Chicago, I think I'll watch some kitty videos to maintain my sanity thank you very much," said an exasperated Jennxpenn.

"Unconventional as always. You could've at least be looking up material that would help us in our mission" said HurricaneAubrey as she went back to listening to O'Henry's scheme.

"Of course, the destruction of the Internet Police leadership is only phase one of our plan," said O'Henry. "Phase two will have the mob go over to Europe to assist our Italian brothers to fight for the Heartlanders under their red and yellow flag. The Italian mafia is about to overthrow the government of their homeland. Their squadrons are about to launch a simultaneous strike on the major Italian cities. Once they capture these cities, it will only be a matter of time before all of Italy falls to the mafia."

HurricaneAubrey couldn't believe it. All this time, the mafia was just stockpiling their weapons just for a suicidal chance of taking over the entire country. Being of Italian descent, this situation was especially personal.

"Why would the mafia embark on a coup now?" thought HurricaneAubrey.

It then struck her that it was currently the middle of March.

"It's so obvious. The Ides of March. The middle of March. When Julius Caesar was stabbed by the Roman Senate in the name of saving the Roman Republic. Beware the Ides of March. Julius Caesar was assassinated in 44 B.C. But why is the Italian mafia planning to take over Italy in the middle of this March. Italy is already a republic. What grievances does the mafia has that would force them to overthrow the Republic of Italy during the Ides of March?" thought HurricaneAubrey. "And why ally themselves with the Irish mob to do so?"

"Thanks to our supreme commanders, Germany will be the next to fall. Soon enough, Ireland will be joining the list of European countries destined to be liberated from the corruption of modern society once we get our full fighting force across the Atlantic," said O'Henry. "Eventually, our supreme commanders will free all of Europe with the help of our mob, the Italian mafia, and ordinary Europeans and Americans fed up with the status quo."

"Praise be to our new saviors," said one of the mob members.

"Let's hear it for the harbingers of the good old ways," said O'Henry.

The Irish mob filled the brewery with applause. Maintaining her mental constitution, HurricaneAubrey headed towards the exit.

"Where are you going?" asked Jennxpenn as she saw HurricaneAubrey crawling away from her.

"We have to warn the others about the Heartlanders' intentions for the Internet Police and for Europe," said HurricaneAubrey.

HurricaneAubrey expected Jennxpenn to follow her to the safety of the outdoors, but she was embarking on this journey alone. HurricaneAubrey looked back to see Jennxpenn was still stationed behind the barrels and holding her pistol directly at a clapping O'Henry.

"I'm ordering you to retreat now!" hissed HurricaneAubrey. "Let's go!"

"Let's take down these goons before they have the chance to join up with their buddies in Chicago," said Jennxpenn. "Never leave a man behind. Chop off the snake's head before it can strike."

"Come on!" whispered HurricaneAubrey. "There's too many of them to take on our own! Let's get out of here!"

Jennxpenn stood up to look down on the brunette woman on all four.

"If there were too many to face anyway, then why in the hell did we bring our guns to begin with!" yelled Jennxpenn as she waved her gun around carelessly.

"Jennxpenn!" screamed HurricaneAubrey with a horrified expression on her face.

"Looks like I've earned your respect!" said Jennxpenn who was glad that HurricaneAubrey was looking afraid. "Unlike you, I can take on these mobsters all by myself. All I have to do is hide behind these barrels and shoot these guys like in a video game."

"Glad to see you around here. We haven't had a live target to practice with in a while," said O'Henry.

Jennxpenn had a stupefied look on her face. She turned around and saw several submachine guns pointed at her.

"Top o' the morning to you!" exclaimed Jennxpenn as she did a brief Irish jig. "As an Irish woman, I would like to join your gang and bring glory back to the Irish community."

"Maybe you should have said that before threatening to kill us all," said O'Henry.

"Shit. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea," said Jennxpenn.

Jennxpenn saw HurricaneAubrey grovel on the ground like a dog behind her, but it was Jennxpenn that was looking more like the fool.

"Such a shame that we have to kill a member of our Irish clan, but there is nothing worse than a traitor from our own family," said O'Henry. "Take out your electronic devices gentlemen. I want to record this traitor's death to the world."

The mob members took out their electronic devices from their pockets as they aimed their submachine guns at Jennxpenn. As her life flashed before her eyes, she recalled she had an important weapon in her hand: a pistol. And she used that pistol to shoot directly at O'Henry's chest. With one bullet, she took down O'Henry, and as his body fell onto the ground, the nine remaining members of his mob had blank expressions on their faces. The mob members regained their composure as they aimed their submachine guns at Jennxpenn.

"Didn't really think this through all the way," thought Jennxpenn.

Luckily, bullets came flying away from Jennxpenn in the form of HurricaneAubrey. She fired her pistol into four of the mobsters, wounding them greatly. With five mob members down, the remaining five retaliated by firing rounds of bullets from their submachine guns. Jennxpenn and HurricaneAubrey dodged the bullets by rolling on the ground and using the beer barrels scattered throughout the factory as cover.

"Oops," said HurricaneAubrey as the four film canisters rolled out of her purse and towards the five mobsters.

"Should have brought extra bullets eh," said one of the mobsters as he fired bullets towards HurricaneAubrey.

"Let's take this bitch down," said another mobster as he kicked the film canisters out of the way.

As Jennxpenn was trying to retreat from having to face five angry men firing submachine guns, HurricaneAubrey was engage in battle as she fired her pistol and ducked behind the beer barrels.

"Gotcha," said HurricaneAubrey as she struck down another mob member. "Four more left."

"Keep firing," said one of the four remaining mobsters. "And look for the blood traitor as well."

"Will do brother," said another mob member.

HurricaneAubrey dodged a hail of bullets as she kept firing her pistol. Unfortunately, her pistol ran out of bullets.

"Come on!" shouted HurricaneAubrey as her pistol ceased its purpose.

"Looks like your luck has run out!" shouted a mobster. "Take her down, and after we take care of her friend, we'll join our brothers in Chicago."

HurricaneAubrey was ready to contemplate retreat when she saw the film canisters resting next to her. Being of little importance to the mobsters, the film canisters was going to be used by HurricaneAubrey to her full advantage. She opened the canisters and out came extra bullets. Loading up on her pistol, she saw that the mobsters were basking underneath the dimly lit light bulbs, anticipating victory before they delivered the finishing blow.

"Let's finish the job," said a mobster as he motioned his friend to approach the brunette woman. "She's probably crying hysterically."

The mobsters laughed as they approached the women hiding behind the beer barrels. HurricaneAubrey was breathing heavily as she turned around and fired her pistol at the mobsters. With the element of surprise on her side, HurricaneAubrey fired her pistol into the four remaining mobsters.

"Is it over?" said a voice off in the distance.

HurricaneAubrey looked over at Jennxpenn, with the blonde woman hugging herself as she saw the Irish mobsters lying on the floor.

"I think so," said HurricaneAubrey as she picked up the aerosol spray can that fell out of her purse. "Guess I won't be using this item today."

HurricaneAubrey happened to be standing next to a mobster who had enough strength to lift a submachine gun and aim it at HurricaneAubrey's head. Fortunately for her and unfortunately for the mobster, HurricaneAubrey was prepared and sprayed her aerosol can into the mobster's eyes

"Ahhhhh!" screamed the mobster.

"Guess this item really did come in handy," said HurricaneAubrey as she held the spray can, the key to her survival.

The doors to the factory opened, revealing the Nerd and the Critic armed with pistols. Seeing two ladies standing on a floor covered with Irish mobsters, the Critic and the Nerd lowered their pistols.

"Look like you two handled the situation quite well," said the Nerd. "I underestimated your willingness to work together as partners."

HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn tried smiling, but they just sighed and lowered their heads as they knew how untrue the Nerd's statement was.

"They must be exhausted," said the Critic. "I wouldn't blame them."

"Critic! I have loads to tell you. The fate of the Internet Police and Europe is at stake!" shouted HurricaneAubrey. She then decided to calm down to deliver the news in a more professional manner. "The Irish mob are planning to attack Chicago with all the top Internet Police officials being corralled there like cattle. And that's just the first phase of their ultimate plan. The second phase will involve the Irish mob joining with several American and European factions to Europe, and they aren't planning to go on holiday. They are on a crusade to free Europe from moral depravity, and they will start with conquering Italy during the Ides of March."

"The War of European Succession," said the Nerd. "I spoke with the Chief about this rumored conflict. And now she's going to experience it firsthand."

"Let's get going to Chicago then," said the Critic. "Nice work, HurricaneAubrey!"

HurricaneAubrey smiled as she ran behind the Critic and the Nerd. Jennxpenn was not impressed.

"Excuse me! I helped as well!" shouted Jennxpenn as she ran behind the three agents like a child wanting attention.

Just as the four agents reached the main door of the brewery, they heard a laugh behind them. The four agents saw the guffaw came from the mobster blinded by HurricaneAubrey's aerosol spray can.

"You don't even know what you're dealing with," said the giggling mobster. "For convenience sake, just call me The Seer. It is a more fitting nickname than my original one."

"What was your original nickname?" asked Jennxpenn.

"Never mind that," said The Seer. "I must thank you brunette woman for making me blind. After agonizing a few minutes with the chemicals rendering my eyes meaningless, I came to realize it gave me a greater sense of purpose. Without being distracted by the materialism of this modern age, I can attain wisdom through my other senses. I can feel the beauty of the grass growing beneath my feet. I can fully taste the splendor of sweets without being put off by its garish colors. I can hear the harmonious music of an Irish harp. And I can smell the homemade ingredients of a proper kitchen rather than see the meal itself being cooked in a sterile laboratory. You see. I have transcended beyond being a run-of-the-mill mobster and achieved enlightenment."

The four agents were taken aback at an ordinary mobster speaking to them in this way.

"We're wasting time here! Let's go!" yelled the Critic as he motioned the three other agents to leave.

"I don't think you want to leave," said The Seer. "You have no idea what you're dealing with. Not even close."

"We know everything about your crusade to free Europe from a new Dark Age," said HurricaneAubrey. "There is nothing more you can tell us, you misguided man."

"Shame that you aren't on our side. You could've been a valuable asset to us, especially with how well you took us on and blinded me in the end," said The Seer. "And I think you're the one who is more blind than I am."

"What are you talking about?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"For starters, I'm a woman," said The Seer.

Stunned at this revelation, HurricaneAubrey rushed to take off The Seer's hat, revealing a head with hair tied into a bundle. Looking upon The Seer's face, HurricaneAubrey could now see the feminine attributes.

"Looks like the Irish mob are a bunch of misogynists who won't allow women into their ranks," said Jennxpenn as she towered over the blind woman. "That should really have sent off warning signs of how they really viewed you since you disguised yourself as a man."

"Oh, how blind you are. The Irish mob was more than happy to let me into their group provided I shared the Heartlander doctrine. My gender had no bearing on my admission into the mob," said The Seer. "I only tied my hair to prevent it from interfering with my fighting skills."

"Enough of this bullshit," said the Nerd. "Either you tell us what we don't know, or else, we'll leave you here to make friends with the rats."

With her newfound intelligence, The Seer knew that she was in a vulnerable position, and thus, she sensibly told them some essential information.

"When the blonde woman shot O'Henry, we recorded her act of violence on our electronic devices, and shortly before we went after her and her brunette friend, we sent the video to all of the Heartlanders around the world. So, congratulations blondie, you fired the opening shot of the War of European Succession," said The Seer.

"Thank you," said Jennxpenn, who couldn't think of a counterargument or anything else to say.

"And while you were listening to me discussing the joys of my four remaining senses, The Leprechaun is now mobilizing his mob forces onto Chicago, the Italian mafia has begun the assault on the major Italian cities, and the American military stationed in Germany has been taken over by the Heartlanders in an internal coup. We intended to start our campaigns on St. Patrick's Day, but thanks to blondie, our plans have started early after all of us saw her shooting O'Henry. So, thank you blondie for catching the world off guard," said The Seer.

"At least we know who exactly we're dealing with and how we're going to stop these Heartlanders," said Jennxpenn trying to reassure herself that she did the right thing.

"Still blind are you. Maybe you should know who the Supreme Commanders of the Heartlanders are. See if you're willing to sacrifice yourselves after you get a glimpse of them," stated The Seer.

The Seer fumbled through her pants' pockets as she took out her portable device for an image of the Heartlanders' Supreme Commanders. The wallpaper of her portable device had two older men and one young woman, individuals the four Internet Police agents never wanted to see as the supreme commanders of the Heartlanders. Jennxpenn saw the middle-aged man and the young woman who were responsible for killing a teenage boy for failing to recite the Gettysburg Address. HurricaneAubrey was having flashbacks of the young woman on the wallpaper pointing a gun to her head on a plane trip to Springfield, Illinois. The Critic had a feeling of dread as he caught sight of the oldest man out of the unholy trinity.

"It can't be," said the four agents simultaneously with terrorized looks on their faces.

In the moments before the shot heard and seen round the world, Chief Horner was accompanying TamashiiHiroka as she stood in front of a glass container containing an Asylum occupant by the name of Harry S. Plinkett. Though he was bound to a wheelchair, the Chief of the Internet Police and an Internet Police agent in training still felt vulnerable as he glared at them. Nadine, an Internet Police agent stationed at the Asylum, was reading off Mr. Plinkett's personal history and crimes from her clipboard.

"This is Harry S. Plinkett. Famous for his evisceration of the Star Wars prequels. Regarded by many as a master in film analysis and critique," explained Nadine in a thick New Jersey accent. "Captured by the Internet Police agents the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd during a raid in Teaneck, New Jersey."

"What's so bad about him?" asked TamashiiHiroka, who didn't know why she felt fear in front of an elderly man who could barely walk and whose holding cell was a squalor of pizza rolls, moldy couches, and broken filming equipment.

"Let me run down a list of what this kind man has done to deserve being here," said Nadine reading from a clipboard. "Murdered his first wife by slamming a Cadillac into a tree and sending her flying out the windshield, slit the wrists of his second wife Bambi after she was caught stealing money from his wallet, pushed a hooker down a well, killed a prostitute with bug spray, and stuffed two women into a refrigerator of flesh-eating cockroaches." Nadine saw TamashiiHiroka cover her mouth in horror. "Should I continue on with Mr. Plinkett gassing a Halloween partygoer dressed as a Navi?"

"No," said TamashiiHiroka simply as she stared at the serial killer and sociopath Mr. Plinkett, who was looking at her with interest. "Excuse me."

Chief Horner saw TamashiiHiroka retreating to the Asylum's observation deck, which had a clear view of the holding cells within this vast space beneath Lake Michigan.

"Keep an eye on Plinkett while I comfort TamashiiHiroka," said Chief Horner to Nadine.

"Will do," said Nadine as she saw Chief Horner make her way to the observation deck. "You know, I don't think TamashiiHiroka is qualified to be an Internet Police agent with her being shell-shocked at even the mention of Plinkett's crimes."

With Chief Horner out of sight, Nadine pressed her face against the glass window.

"Is it time, Nadine? Time to show the world what real filmmaking is?" asked Mr. Plinkett in a grumbling voice.

Nadine pressed her hand against the glass screen, matching the outline of her hand with Mr. Plinkett's own hand.

"Not just yet," said Nadine.

"While we wait, get me a pizza roll," said Mr. Plinkett.

Chief Horner climbed the metal stairs to the observation deck where TamashiiHiroka was trying to relax her mind after coming face to face with the notorious Mr. Plinkett.

"Why does this place need to exist?" asked TamashiiHiroka to no one. "Why must there be people like Mr. Plinkett?

"The Asylum exists to contain those deemed a threat on the internet. That's what the Internet Police is for. In fact, that's what the police are for. To capture and hopefully rehabilitate criminals. What else were you expecting when you decided to become an Internet Police agent?" said Chief Horner.

"Creating a perfect world," answered TamashiiHiroka. "Maybe crafting a utopian society would be a little too ambitious as a single Internet Police agent."

Chief Horner gazed upon all the subjects in the Asylum as she leaned forward on the railing. She thought about the origins of the Internet Police organization in the 1990s, around the time the World Wide Web became accessible to the public. She didn't want to discourage TamashiiHiroka from joining the Internet Police, but she had to give her all the information required to make an informed decision.

"Do you remember what happened during the 1990s?" asked Chief Horner.

"Historically or pop culturally?" responded TamashiiHiroka. "Pop culturally, the Pokémon games and anime began in the 1990s, and it was when Japanese animation gained mainstream attention in the west with the likes of Sailor Moon and Neon Genesis Evangelion. Historically, I can recall the reunification of Germany, the end of apartheid in South Africa, the triumph of coalition forces against Iraq in the Gulf War, and the collapse of the Soviet Union."

"I see that you know the 1990s like you grew up during that era," commented Chief Horner. "How did everyone feel during that time?"

"Optimistically," said TamashiiHiroka. "For more than forty years, the Cold War had threatened to destroy the world in an inferno of nuclear weapons, and while the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. were trapped in a cycle of mutually assured destruction, the rest of the world experienced several proxy wars between the two superpowers, most prominently the Korean and Vietnam War. With the dismantling of the Berlin Wall and the fall of communism in eastern Europe, the specter of the Cold War had come to an end, and with the adoption of capitalism in places like China, it seemed that the world was becoming more interconnected."

"It would appear that the world was becoming more intertwined, as evident when you brought up how Japanese media was becoming more familiar to the West," said Chief Horner. "And I would argue that the World Wide Web played a huge role in connecting people throughout the 1990s."

"It must have been great being an adult in the 1990s with all this optimism and prosperity in the air," said TamashiiHiroka.

"Not quite," explained Chief Horner. "In eastern Europe, there was a lot of growing pains when the region emerged from forty years of communism and had to readopt capitalism and democracy. And in Russia after the end of the Soviet Union, there was an economic downturn that overshadowed the Great Depression. You also have the breakup of Yugoslavia that resulted in the ethnic cleansing of minorities in the Balkans. And let's not forget the Rwandan genocide."

TamashiiHiroka's rose-colored view of the 1990s was faltering as Chief Horner told her even more hard truths.

"In the West, there were devastating events like the Oklahoma City Bombing and the growing threat of cyber terrorism that put a damper on the view that the fast arriving 21st century would be utopian," stated Chief Horner. "It was the latter that led to the creation of the Internet Police in the 1990s. The first Internet Police agents were wide-eyed optimists who thought they could secure the internet with ease. They figured that the instances of terrorism and ethnic cleansing were just minor setbacks to the ultimate paradise that was waiting for them in the 21st century."

"I imagine the atmosphere around the creation of the Internet Police must have euphoric and hopeful," commented TamashiiHiroka.

"You couldn't have said it better. They thought that their duties would be simple and straightforward when founding the Internet Police in Chicago, an appropriate location considering its central location within the continental United States. The Internet Police started in one small Chicago skyscraper that the first agents thought would be enough to fulfill their task of arresting and treating cyber criminals. But as the 1990s ended and the new millennium was upon us, the Internet Police expanded to several skyscrapers as the scope of internet crimes exploded exponentially. It must have been a shock to these first agents that the 21st century wasn't going to be as peaceful as they hoped it would be," said Chief Horner.

TamashiiHiroka saw the rows upon rows of inmates within the Internet Police's Asylum. She could imagine the first agents only having one floor of their skyscraper headquarters dedicated to holding criminals. It must have crushed these Internet Police agents to realize that the world was much more complex and dangerous than they thought.

"So, you're saying that all hope is lost, and that joining the Internet Police would be pointless," said TamashiiHiroka as she looked upon the Asylum's prisoners displaying varying levels of insanity.

"Absolutely not," said Chief Horner. "If that was the case, then the Internet Police would have disbanded around the turn of the 21st century. But the Internet Police is still here. Though I'll be honest in saying that many agents have lost hope in recent years. Indeed, my predecessor resigned as the Chief of the Internet Police after being subjected to humiliating conditions at George Zazz's Utopia Island. Coupled with the unenviable task of rebuilding America after the turmoil of the Great Schism, she decided to step down, and nobody held it against her for doing so. You see, even the Chief decided that she had enough the Internet Police and preparing for the unpredictable. I was reluctant to take on the powers of being the Internet Police Chief. But I had a glimmer of hope that the Internet Police could be reformed and move forward from its hostile takeover by George Zazz."

TamashiiHiroka thought back to the aftermath of the Great Schism of America. Her moment of resistance at the San Diego Comic-Con was only fleeting when the actual killings began. She knew that she didn't stand a chance against the rampaging squads of Patricians who were blood-thirsty and looking for Plebeians like her. No longer feeling safe and trusting no one, she decided to go solo and live in her car.

"I escaped the worst of the fighting in the Great Schism. I didn't have the bravery to go out and risk my life for what appeared to be a losing cause. I surrendered myself to living the rest of my life on the run, and for that, I regretted it. I was in the Venice neighborhood of Los Angeles days after the official end of the Great Schism. I walked past the revelry of the crowds. I should have felt happy that I survived to see the end of the Great Schism. But as I heard the people around me sharing stories of their heroism against Patricians with machine guns and swords, I knew that I had done nothing of substance against George Zazz. I was a coward despite my disgust for the man. As I saw electronic devices showing the faces of the people killed by George Zazz's patricians and the ex-Patricians, I thought about how many more people I could have saved if I didn't become a hermit," explained TamashiiHiroka.

TamashiiHiroka closed her eyes for a few seconds before opening them back up again.

"No more running away. I will become an Internet Police agent," said TamashiiHiroka.

At that moment, Chief Horner's Electronic Database started buzzing. She picked it up, and upon hearing its message, she immediately grabbed TamashiiHiroka and started running down from the observation platform.

"What are you doing?!" asked TamashiiHiroka, who was stunned by Chief Horner's look of fear on her face.

"We need to evacuate immediately," said Chief Horner.

"Why?" questioned TamashiiHiroka.

TamashiiHiroka's question was answered as the Asylum was bathed in red lighting, and soon, alarms were blaring like air raid sirens. Chief Horner and TamashiiHiroka then saw Nadine escorting Mr. Plinkett by his wheelchair as she began opening the holding cells one by one. It appeared that there were other renegade agents who were doing the same with the other cells.

"I'm afraid that the Internet Police has been infiltrated by moles. We need to get you out of here," said Chief Horner.

Thousands of miles away, the War of European Succession had begun. In a private villa in Naples, Italy, a young woman hidden in the shadows was watching a large, electronic map of Europe. Like a game of Civilization, the military units on the map were moving towards various European cities with the intent of capturing them. So far, the map showed the Italian mafia pouring units into Rome, Florence, and Milan. Further north, Germany was becoming redder as her forces were using American military equipment to seize control of Berlin and the rest of northern Germany before moving south into Bavaria. Switching to a map of America, the young woman smoked through a cigarette holder as she watched as units representing the Irish mob were approaching Chicago. The Irish invasion of Chicago and the entire War of European Succession was supposed to take place on St. Patrick's Day, but due to a blonde Internet Police agent firing the first shot and becoming knowledgeable of the Heartlanders' plans, the young woman decided to launch the War of European Succession early.

"No matter," said the young woman in a soft voice. "The war has already begun. Soon, I'll be the Empress of Europe."

In her mind, the Heartlanders would be victorious in the end, and with the Internet Police decimated in America, they would be unable to stop their liberation of Europe. The Heartlanders would not accept the tedious nature of modern life. They wouldn't accept living until they faded into obscurity and irrelevance. Now was the moment the Heartlanders would influence the course of human history. Little did the young woman realized that speedboats were heading towards the coast of Chicago. They were driven by the Internet Police agents who heard the news of an impeding attack on the high-ranking Internet Police officials. At the forefront of the amphibious landing were the Nostalgia Critic, the Angry Video Game Nerd, HurricaneAubrey, and Jennxpenn. They landed onto the Chicago shoreline, charging with the other Internet Police agents onto the beaches and roadways as they faced the Irish mob. The counterattack in the American campaign of the War of European Succession had begun.

 **Please review this story to provide me some advice on improving it. What other internet personalities or memes should the Internet Police encounter?**


	6. The Ides of March Part 2

**I do not own any of the internet personalities or memes presented in this story.**

The Internet Police: Year in Review

The Ides of March, Part 2

In the Roman calendar, March was the beginning of a new year. The Romans simply classified the months of January and February as a period of harsh winter. Perhaps it was appropriate that the month of March was the start of their new year with the renewal of life in the form of spring. Since time immemorial, farming cultures welcomed the arrival of spring as it meant the end of the bleak and unforgiving winter, with the Romans being only one of many agricultural civilizations heralding spring. After fasting and remaining indoors for the winter, farmers could now grow crops and livestock to hold bountiful banquets and feed a population of non-farmers focused on the endeavors of industry and governing. And those non-farmers included soldiers who required a hearty meal to fight. The Romans placed significant importance on their military as evident by how they honored March as also the month of warfare, with March itself being named for the Roman god of war Mars. With March being both the month of farming and war, it was no wonder that it was the month of March that saw the start of the War of European Succession between the Heartlanders, the self-proclaimed descendants of the Romans, and the Internet Police, whose members were traditionally dressed in a white dress shirt underneath a blue suit jacket, distinctive colors for their neck ties or ribbon ties, and the men and women wore blue pants and blue skirts respectively. The lady at the villa watched as her armies fought in the Old World and the New World for dominance over the course of history.

"How is Operation Italia going?" said the woman casually as she watched on her large screen monitor of the Imperial city of Rome being on fire and the canals of Venice being filled with tourists seeking to escape the wrath of the Heartlanders.

"Splendidly," said the American man who was leading the Italian mafia to victory and who was also her partner during the Great Schism of America.

"Carry on then," said the woman sipping a glass of wine. "Now onto Operation Germania. Speak to me General about the situation in the north."

The woman waited to see how much of Germany was conquered by General Walker. Much to her annoyance, a much younger American general was answering her call.

"So far so good," said the young American general. "Berlin has fallen. The rest of Germany will soon follow. The might of the stolen American military equipment will secure victory for the Heartlanders in Germany."

The young American general then realized his grave mistake: talking to Roxy Harmon while hiding a massive secret from her. Suddenly, he fell to his hands and knees, a stark contrast to the Heartlanders raising their red and yellow flag (with a red horizontal stripe directly over the yellow horizontal stripe) over the Reichstag.

"Don't kill me!" shouted the young American general. "General Walker insisted on leading Operation Americae, and I decided it was best to respect his wishes. Please don't stab me in the head."

The young American general awaited Roxy's response. Much to his surprise, she remained calm.

"I'll deal with him later," said Roxy in a cold and calculating tone. "Proceed with Operation Germania."

Stunned at her reaction to General Walker's insubordination, the young American general got up to give her a salute. The last image Roxy saw of the young American general was bullets zipping past him. The source of these bullets was from the Berlin police firing at the Heartland soldiers as these invaders were trying to tear down the Reichstag's glass dome.

"Carry on with our plans," said the young American general as he led the Heartlanders against the native Berliners.

Using her remote, the woman closed the window broadcasting the Fall of Berlin. She opened the window on her monitor displaying Operation Americae in Chicago. She saw the image of General Walker fighting against what looks to be his son dressed in his signature clothes: glasses, a black cap, a red tie, a white shirt underneath a black jacket, and blue jeans. Ignoring the complaints of the cameraman as he professed that he didn't signed up for this, Roxy decided to voice her misgivings over General Walker's unauthorized trip back to America.

"Looks like you're having a wonderful family reunion back home," said Roxy in a bored tone. "Though to my knowledge, I didn't permit you to be discharged from Operation Germania to play tag with your son."

"I'm doing my part in restoring America back to her greatness. We just have one minor problem."

"And what is that?" asked Roxy.

"The un-American Internet Police traitors have arrived in Chicago but don't worry. Unlike those European pussies, I will obliterate any doubt of success in Operation Americae," said General Walker as he was engaged in a fist fight with the Nostalgia Critic.

"Those pussies of yours already succeeded in taking over most of Germany and Italy. Frank Murdoch got the Italian mafia to help us win control of a large part of Italy. And the Germans seized back their country without your help," stated Roxy with a smug smile.

The American renegade general looked as if he was slapped in the face over the woman's statement about how victory was won by the Europeans. He looked as if he wanted to rant about how it was American military superiority alone that captured the German and Italian cities, but he realized that his son now had a loaded pistol in his hand.

"Okay you're right," said General Walker as he took out his own pistol.

The last thing from Operation Americae Roxy saw was General Walker muttering some insight words regarding her.

"Fucking bitch," said General Walker as he engaged in a pistol duel with his son.

Roxy tightened her fist as she switched off the broadcast from Chicago.

"Must remain calm. Must not get angry," said Roxy as she was also clenching her teeth. "Now let's see if The Leprechaun is having more success in eliminating the Internet Police elites in the Internet Police Asylum."

Sensing that Operation Americae might fail, Roxy began to down an entire bottle of wine, oblivious to an urgent message box that appeared on her screen.

"Bloody junk mail," said Roxy as she threw her bottle off into the distance, producing a shattering noise, not realizing that the message said, "From Siberia, With Love."

Roxy was about to close the message with her remote.

"If you think that you're going to carelessly delete my message, then you can kiss your chances of seizing power goodbye," said the second message.

Roxy gulped as she knew only one person who could have answered her in this manner: General Natalia Petrovskaya. She opened the message with a remote, and at once, a video broadcast was displayed on the screen. The screen showed a young woman with flowing brown hair dressed in an Imperial Russian uniform, complete with a hat pierced with a red star and an emblem of a double-headed eagle positioned over her left chest. The woman appeared to be seated in an ornate office room that was once belonged to the Czars of the Russian Empire.

"I thought we made a pact. I provide you with military advice, while you act as my partner in securing the natural and economic resources of Central Europe," spoke General Petrovskaya in surprisingly good English for a non-native speaker. "But if you want to dispense with our pact, then I wouldn't object. I'm sure that you have everything under control."

General Petrovskaya gave off a smile like a chess player would show if they had their opponent in checkmate, and as luck would have it, the Siberian general had a chessboard on the desk she was sitting at, with the black king being checkmated by the white pieces.

"I have everything under control," said Roxy as she was sweating. "The Heartlanders have captured the northern parts of Germany and Italy, and we are about to kill the Internet Police leadership in the American city of Chicago. Everything is going to plan."

"I see," said General Petrovskaya with both of her hands placed underneath her chin as her piercing blue eyes were looking towards Roxy. "Tell me, why did you throw your wine bottle across the villa and why are you sweating excessively if things are going well?"

"Things are going fucking well!" yelled Roxy as she got up in a vain attempt to intimidate General Petrovskaya.

General Petrovskaya looked as though an insubordinate child was whining for more sweets from her. Giving a countenance of contempt, General Petrovskaya stood up and walked in front of her desk to give a full profile to Roxy. Compared to the diminutive and poorly postured Roxy, General Petrovskaya was towering both in height and other physical attributes such as her tall legs that descended below her flowing short skirt. Trying to ignore how her chest was of a much lower standard compared to that of General Petrovskaya, Roxy tried psychological warfare against the Siberian general.

"I have followed your advice of trying to act all nice and gentle with my soldiers," said Roxy. "But this is a fucking war! I'm about to take over Germany and Italy, and after the destruction of the Internet Police leadership in Chicago, I'm going to invade Austria and the rest of Europe will follow suit. With victory within my grasp, I have every right to unleash my wrath and fury upon everyone. After all, who's going to oppose me with how much power I'm going to have. I can do anything I want. First thing I'm going to do is to institute a mass cleansing of the millions of undesirables."

General Petrovskaya watched as Roxy was mimicking using a dagger to slice the appendages of the undesirables. General Petrovskaya gave out a sign of disappointment.

"You act on animalistic instinct rather than human reason," said General Petrovskaya. "You have no subtlety. You are a blunt instrument capable of only brute force. Be careful, you wouldn't want to make the same mistake in Germany as Hitler did."

"I'm nothing like that loser!" shouted Roxy. "I only kill assholes. And besides, he lost in the end! I'm going to win!"

"Are you planning to do that all alone with Frank and his pathetic allies?" asked General Petrovskaya. "Frank is an old man who would sign a peace treaty at the first sign of defeat. Trust me, I know this to be true of soldiers past their prime. I also tell that he has a growing aversion to violence, which would be problematic in your case."

General Petrovskaya saw Roxy listening intently to what she had to say.

"I can reconsider additional Siberian support for the War of European Succession. However, I must remind you of Siberia's unending supply of soldiers and military equipment, rivaled only by our vast landscape. I sincerely doubt that your Heartlander army, with its meager supplies, alone would be enough to hold the Italian and German cities. You wouldn't want to meet the same fate of those who last strove for absolute power in these two countries. Mussolini. Shot and hung at a gas station. Hitler. Shot himself as Berlin collapsed above him."

And just like that, General Petrovskaya knew that Roxy had no choice but to renew her agreement with the Siberians.

"I need all the help I need from you," said Roxy. "So how much longer must I contain my rage and bloodlust?"

"Like I said before, when the time is right," said General Petrovskaya.

"When? When?!" shouted Roxy.

"When the time is right," insisted General Petrovskaya.

Roxy wanted to retort again, but alas, she nodded in silence. She then decided to give a final statement to General Petrovskaya before signing off.

"I'm willing to kill others for your sake," said Roxy. "Even Frank if it comes to that."

With Roxy signing off, General Petrovskaya marched forward towards a large mirror that showed her entire figure.

"Humans are inherently an ignorant species. They are like lemmings who follow orders based on raw emotion," said General Petrovskaya as she adjusted her long hair in front of the mirror.

Her eyes then shifted to a gargantuan map of the world that was emblazoned with arrows marked "Potential Targets."

"It's almost embarrassing to think how easy it would be to subjugate people in this day in age. Compared to the olden days, there's not much of a challenge anymore," said General Petrovskaya with a mixture of glee and pity.

To differentiate the conflict in Chicago that occurred in both the Great Schism of America and the War of European Succession, the battle that was raging in the middle of March will be called the Second Battle of Chicago. There were three fronts in the Second Battle of Chicago: the street level, the skyscrapers, and the Asylum. The Critic was fighting on the street level with his father. The Nerd and Jennxpenn were battling the Leprechaun and his band of Irish mobsters through the glass elevators that traversed the now deserted Internet Police Complex. And HurricaneAubrey was battling through a gang of Irish mobsters and the released prisoners of the Asylum as she tried to rescue the Internet Police leaders, most notably Chief Horner. As the glass elevators commanded by the Internet Police agents and the Irish mobsters were dodging flying bullets and shattered glass in the Internet Police Complex's Terminal, the Nerd was in a one-on-one duel with the Liam "The Leprechaun" O'Hannan himself, with each man firing machine guns through the glass elevator's pried doors. Accompanying the Nerd in the glass elevator was Jennxpenn, who seemed oblivious to the battle as she was lying down on her stomach and was browsing the internet on her E.D.

"I need a little help here," said the Nerd, who saw that the Leprechaun's personal guards were boasting about what they were going to do after their victory in Chicago.

"Can't. I'm busy," said Jennxpenn as she was giggling to herself in front of her E.D., much to the bewilderment of the Nerd.

"You want to go for a beer at this sweet Louisiana plantation we now own," said the Leprechaun

"Aye, that would be a merry idea. Maybe we'll feed the local alligators nearby some tasty Internet Police meat. I hear that the legs and their eyes are especially delicious," said one of the guards.

"Just add a side order of potatoes, and we'll have a feast for both the Irish and for the gators," guffawed another guard.

Not wanting to be in the belly of Louisiana gators, the Nerd decided to lure the Leprechaun and his elite guards to the Elysian Fields. The hunter has become the hunted as the Irish predators were following the Nerd's glass elevator to the ruins of the Elysian Fields. Gone were the tranquil olive trees and Mediterranean cypress trees that populated the fields. They had decomposed into skeletons of their former selves, their greenery now shriveled into brown mush. The grass of the Elysian Fields was now blackened and covered with electronics that once powered the artificial sky above. The orange and purple sky that once shined upon the fields was no more as broken wiring and cracked screens was the new norm in the heavens. Dragging Jennxpenn, the Nerd ran to take cover at a crumbling stone farmhouse.

"We got you now," said the Leprechaun. "Alright men. Let's fire upon the farmhouse. Death to the Englishman."

"Death to the Englishman," said the guards as they aimed their machine guns at the farmhouse.

"Almost out of bullets," said the Nerd as he inspected his gun. "How about you Jennxpenn?"

Despite being at Death's doorstep, Jennxpenn still was on her E.D. The Nerd sighed with frustration.

"Hope you are writing your eulogy," said the Nerd as he was at a loss of what to say regarding this absurd scenario.

"Any last words Englishman," said the Leprechaun.

Just then, the Nerd realized that he had an ace up his sleeves. For most of his adult life, he had forgotten his Italian heritage. But now, his ancestry could now play a crucial role in saving his life and not be an excuse of demanding free pizzas from Italian kitchens.

"I'm not an Englishman. I'm Italian," said the Nerd.

The Irish mobsters were taken aback.

"But you have an English-sounding last name," said the Leprechaun. "Isn't your last name the same as one of the founders of England's Jamestown colony in Virginia?"

"I'm confused," said one of the guards.

"Maybe my great great great great Italian grandmother hooked up with my great great great great English grandfather and made an Italian-English baby. And then maybe that Italian-English boy married an Italian girl and drove out all the Englishness out of my family," said the Nerd. "Does that make sense?"

"I guess so," said one of the guards.

"But still, you are 1% English," said the Leprechaun. "Can't have you breeding with the Irish and polluting our blood. Guards! March!"

The Irish guards readied their machine guns as they marched towards the farmhouse. With the pounding footsteps coming closer, the Nerd looked around his surroundings. He saw shelves of wine bottles. Knowledgeable of the long shelf life of wine, he decided to pick a random bottle to open and consume, not caring what brand it was.

"At least I'll die drunk and happy," said the Nerd as he removed the cork from the bottle. "Though I prefer Rolling Rock beer as my last drink."

"We're not done yet," said Jennxpenn as she got up and walked towards the farmhouse's door. "Leave everything to me."

The Nerd was about to voice his protests, but Jennxpenn held her hand up to call for silence.

"I am an Irishwoman," said Jennxpenn. "I am your own flesh and blood."

"But you were the Irishwoman who shot our own kind in Milwaukee," said the Leprechaun. "You are a blood traitor. You dare speak to us as our equal."

"May I ask who the real blood traitors among us are?" said Jennxpenn. "Why the hell did you obtain a Louisiana plantation Mr. Leprechaun?"

The Irish mobsters murmured amongst themselves about Jennxpenn's question.

"Let's kill her!" shouted one of the mobsters.

"Am I not allowed a final wish before meeting my end? I believe there is honor in the Irish mob," insisted Jennxpenn.

The Leprechaun thought about Jennxpenn's statement about honor. Wanting no further conflict of interests, the Leprechaun decided to answer Jennxpenn's question.

"To celebrate the Internet Police's downfall and to herald the beginning of the Heartlanders' ascension in Europe," said the Leprechaun.

"You do realize that Louisiana plantations were operated using African slaves to pick cotton, and that the Union army fought to end slavery during the American Civil War," said Jennxpenn.

"Can we kill her now?!" shouted one of the mobsters.

"Go on," said the Leprechaun, eagerly expecting to see Jennxpenn make a fool out of herself.

"Isn't one of the greatest prides of Irish Americans is their service in the Union army during the Civil War. So why would you celebrate your victory in a place that would have been despised by your ancestors who fought against the slave-loving Confederates?" asked Jennxpenn.

"She's right," said one mobster. "Our ancestors didn't die just for us to spit on their sacrifices on the battlefield."

"But didn't some Irish Americans fought for the Confederates," said the Leprechaun in a desperate attempt to outsmart Jennxpenn.

"Those Irish Confederates are blood traitors, and they were vastly outnumbered by the Irish Americans who joined the Union army. I ask you Irish mobsters. Do you want to drink, dance, and be merry on a plantation that most of your ancestors would have torch to the ground as soon as they stepped foot onto it? Well?" asked Jennxpenn.

The Irish mobsters looked at each other as they thought about how their ancestors would view them.

"Enough! Kill her!" shouted the Leprechaun.

"Kill him!" shouted several mobsters as they pointed their machine guns at the Leprechaun. "Death to the blood traitor!"

Without being given the opportunity for a counterargument, the mobsters fired upon the Leprechaun, killing him instantly.

"Let's go after the other blood traitors who would collaborate with slave holders," said the mobsters.

With the mobsters in pursuit of pro-Confederate mobsters, Jennxpenn came back inside the farmhouse. She saw that the Nerd drank a whole bottle of wine dry.

"You heard what I did out there," said Jennxpenn.

"Bits and pieces of it," said the Nerd.

"I happened to read about the role of Irish Americans during the American Civil War on my electronic database while we were traveling in the glass elevator," said Jennxpenn with pride.

Jennxpenn's eyes darted between the empty wine bottle and the Nerd seated underneath a wooden table.

"Needed to calm myself before being greeted with a hail of bullets," said the Nerd looking a tad guilty.

The Nerd got up as Jennxpenn looked on disappointingly.

"Good job by the way," said the Nerd trying to not appear hypocritical. "Very good job indeed."

Jennxpenn smiled with satisfaction as the Nerd beckoned her back to the glass elevator.

"Onwards to the Enrichment Center," said the Nerd.

"What for?" asked Jennxpenn as she entered the glass elevator with the Nerd.

"For gas masks," said the Nerd.

The Asylum in the Internet Police Complex in Chicago had a safety precaution in case of escaping prisoners: sleeping gas. Permeated from a modified flamethrower, the gas would affect any short-ranged targets with a bout of sleepiness. Of course, the effectiveness of the gas would vary with each target, with some falling asleep instantly while others would take much longer to be affected if at all. Usually, only one personnel would be equipped with the sleeping gas gear to subdue one escaped prisoner. But the Asylum now had an infestation of escaped prisoners. It would be up to an army of Internet Police agents to take down this band of prisoners wanting to escape to the surface. These Internet Police defenders included Chief Horner and TamashiiHiroka, and with HurricaneAubrey joining up with them shortly after arriving in Chicago, the three of them would use their sleeping gas gear to calm the manic prisoners, with these Internet Police members wearing gas masks to avoid entering a long slumber themselves.

"Follow me," said HurricaneAubrey to Chief Horner and TamashiiHiroka as the three women were running through a plume of white smoke that was the sleeping gas. Barely seeing anything through the gas masks, the three women fired sleeping gas onto the prisoners trying to attack them. One after another, the gas affected these prisoners instantly as they fell straight to the ground.

"Get off me," said TamashiiHiroka as she threw another prisoner onto the ground, spraying sleeping gas on him for good measure.

Through the labyrinth of prison cells and duels between the agents and the prisoners, the three women were trying to reach the nearest glass elevator back to the surface.

"Everything okay Chief Horner?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"Fine, except for being in the middle of the War of European Succession," answered Chief Horner.

Moving past the Internet Police agents carrying the sleeping prisoners back to their respective holding chambers, HurricaneAubrey, TamashiiHiroka, and Chief Horner came across two mysterious figures engulfed in a plume of sleeping gas. Trying to make out their appearance through the confines of her gas masks, HurricaneAubrey saw that the two individuals lacked any gas masks. They were breathing just fine. On closer inspection, the two people were a tall, skinny boy and a short, plump girl.

"Hello, HurricaneAubrey. Nice to see you again after so many years. Shame you didn't try to visit us while we were trapped in this Asylum. Afraid of us I supposed," said the short girl.

HurricaneAubrey squinted her eyes and recognized the tall boy and the short girl immediately.

"Disaster Girl. The Modern Herostratus," said HurricaneAubrey with a polite smile to the short girl. She then focused, on the tall boy. "And you must be Fred Figglehorn."

"If you're going to engage in an intellectual debate with Fred to bore him to sleep, don't bother. As you can see, his imprisonment in this hellhole has caused his mental state to deteriorate even further than before," said Disaster Girl. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Chief Horner."

"He was responsible for the deaths of our finest Internet Police agents in the First and Second Wars," said Chief Horner. "Besides, we don't have time to chitchat."

"Oh, I'm not interested in having a genteel conversation," insisted Disaster Girl. "I'm here to distract you from Fred making his escape." The girl, who appeared to not have aged at all, turned her attention to Fred. "You know what to do to return to the surface."

Like an obedient dog, Fred grunted at Disaster Girl as he placed his fingers into his ears.

"Ahhhhh! Ehhh! Ehhh!" cried Fred as he ran away. "Can't defeat me now with your big words and your crazy arguments!"

"I'll get him!" yelled TamashiiHiroka as she ran after him.

"Wait!" shouted Chief Horner as she hurried after TamashiiHiroka.

HurricaneAubrey was intent on following both Chief Horner and TamashiiHiroka when Disaster Girl pulled out her signature weapon: a matchstick.

"Stay where you are," said Disaster Girl with a smile. "I'll light up this match. As you already know, we're surrounded by sleeping gas which is most likely flammable. One spark from this match and an inferno will spread throughout the entire Asylum. And you know how well humans react to being set on fire."

"Is it worth it to kill yourself in order to get to me?" asked HurricaneAubrey as she continued to spray sleeping gas everywhere.

"You grown up quite a bit since I last saw you," remarked Disaster Girl.

"Thank you," said HurricaneAubrey with confidence.

"I am of course referring to your gray hair and your saggy eyes," said Disaster Girl in a mocking tone. "Otherwise, you're just the same scared little girl back at the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum. Do you remember how you saved Lincoln's personal belongings when I set his presidential library on fire? I remember how you emerged from the museum with a copy of his Emancipation Proclamation, his hat, and his family memorabilia. You were lauded as a hero by the press, and because of your heroics that day, you were immediately inducted into the Internet Police as a top-ranking agent."

HurricaneAubrey looked perplexed at the Modern Herostratus' recounting of that terrible day. Disaster Girl gave a derisive laugh.

"What I meant to say was that you didn't save a single thing from the museum. You passed out from the smoke in the building, and you were immediately fired from your shitty job at the greeting card company during your recovery at the hospital. And out of pity, the former Chief of the Internet Police decided to make you an agent without any effort from you. Surely the other agents must love how you waltz into this agency with no qualifications other than being a Z-list internet celebrity," said Disaster Girl.

With rage boiling within her, HurricaneAubrey pulled out her pistol.

"Ah ah ah," said Disaster Girl waving her index finger with her match-free hand. "If you shoot, I'll light the match, and you already know what the end result will be." Disaster Girl saw a look of righteous anger from HurricaneAubrey. "You know what, I'll give you a free shot because I'm not a complete asshole. Go on then. Shoot me with your best shot."

Being given the green light by Chief Horner and Disaster Girl, HurricaneAubrey fired at Disaster Girl with the intent to subdue rather than kill. Much to her dissatisfaction, Disaster Girl dodged the bullet.

"Shame. Not that I expected much. Especially from the little girl who failed to rescue Todd from the barrage of F-1 and F-2 rockets during the Second War. Though I was ultimately responsible for Todd's death by pushing him into the path of the rockets, you still contributed by deciding to trust me despite my reputation as the Modern Herostratus. All because of you falling for my sweet and innocent girl persona during the Second War, thinking it would be a good idea to take me inside the shelter without restraints," said Disaster Girl.

Disaster Girl then sat down and imitated holding a lollipop.

"Oh, save me, HurricaneAubrey! A mean boy named Fred Figglehorn is going to take my lollipop! Save me from his greasy hands!" cried Disaster Girl as she looked at HurricaneAubrey with puppy-dog eyes.

HurricaneAubrey had a stone-faced expression at the sight of Disaster Girl acting like a damsel in distress. Expecting another bullet to be HurricaneAubrey's response, Disaster Girl got up.

"Looks like my old tricks won't do," said Disaster Girl.

A bullet flew past Disaster Girl without warning. HurricaneAubrey was stunned at how easily Disaster Girl dodged it even with the presence of sleeping gas. Without showing any signs of sleepiness, Disaster Girl resumed taunting HurricaneAubrey.

"You have poor firing skills. I only let that second bullet fly because of how merciful I am. Next time, I'll show you another type of mercy by giving you a quick death. Now that we got that out of the way, are we sure you're a true Internet Police agent? Or are you a faker?" asked Disaster Girl. The girl without the gas mask saw HurricaneAubrey eyes squint. "Too stupid to make a counterargument. I thought you were the master of critical analysis based on interpreting art in museums. Or were you too busy letting the artwork burn."

"Must remain calm," thought HurricaneAubrey as she realized that Disaster Girl was trying a psychological approach to defeat her. "Her desire to live outweighs self-immolation as a form of revenge."

Disaster Girl waited for HurricaneAubrey's emotional breakdown. The girl with the matchstick saw HurricaneAubrey gave a rational and clear counterargument.

"I am a true Internet Police agent, Disaster Girl," answered HurricaneAubrey. "I may have struggled at the beginning, but overtime, I got better thanks to the efforts of the Nostalgia Critic and the Angry Video Game Nerd. I would like to give a special shout-out to the Nostalgia Critic for helping me switch sides in the Great Schism of America and being a shining example of how different generations can unite under common interests. And it was because of the Critic, the Nerd, and I along with several other rebels that we were able to take down George Zazz and bring the Great Schism of America to a successful conclusion."

"Oh really?" said Disaster Girl with a tilt of her head that accompanied her widening eyes. "If you're such a good Internet Police agent, then explain to me that debacle at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in your hometown of New York City. Or have you conveniently forgotten about that fiasco as a way of getting rid of any personal guilt or responsibility in your pathetic life."

And in an instant, HurricaneAubrey's memories of that traumatic incident came flooding back into her consciousness, with this horrific event occurring shortly after the end of the Great Schism of America. With a blink of an eye, HurricaneAubrey found herself flashing back to her and her squadron of Internet Police agents armed with riot shields safeguarding the entrance of the Metropolitan Museum of Art from a crowd of angry New Yorkers. There were flashes of light from the portable devices held by these New Yorkers, perhaps as a means of disorientating the Internet Police agents standing firm against an onslaught of insults. With a barrage of rotten vegetables being thrown at her, HurricaneAubrey tried to protect the artwork of the Met by using her intellect.

"You are not welcome here!" shouted HurricaneAubrey through a megaphone. "If you're going to protest the living conditions brought about by George Zazz's rule here, then go somewhere else."

"Give us some security!" shouted several protestors. "You guys are protecting finger paintings that can't eat or sleep. Don't you care about dealing with the thieves that are robbing our neighborhoods after Georgie died. We're glad that Georgie is dead and all, but once his soldiers moved out, the opportunistic goons ransacked Manhattan. We asked for law and order from you people, but just as we said before, you're too busy guarding pictures of happy trees and butterflies to give a shit about us."

By the power of observation, HurricaneAubrey saw that the protestors were reading from a script as they made their complaints known. This was a tell-tale sign that this protest was not spontaneous and was planned well in advance.

"Another department is dealing with your security problems," said HurricaneAubrey professionally. "I'm leading the Art Defense division of my security organization."

"The division of useless idiots," said one of the female protestors. "Why not protect my family's house?"

"Or my apartment room," said a male protestor.

"What about the park where our children play around in?" said another protestor.

"Why not my bakery business?" said another protestor.

"What about protecting these artworks for the next generation?" suggested HurricaneAubrey.

"For who. Pretentious artists with their heads up their asses trying to find a deeper meaning of grass growing in a painting," said an angry New York man.

"Let me ask you this. If you were inside a burning building and had only time to save one thing, which one would you save? A sweet little girl? Or a painting by some 18th century nobody?" asked a female protestor.

"What sort of question is that?!" yelled HurricaneAubrey.

"Answer the question?!" demanded the crowd.

"Fall back!" shouted HurricaneAubrey to her fellow Internet Police agents.

To provide a greater defense by grouping together, the Internet Police agents obeyed HurricaneAubrey's command and retreated closer towards the Met's entrance. Holding their riot shields up, the Internet Police agents maintained their discipline as both physical and psychological garbage were thrown in their direction by the protestors.

"Who would you save?! A little child?! Or a dusty painting?!" screamed the protestors.

"I'm not going to answer that question?!" shouted HurricaneAubrey. "I'm not going to lose my dignity by giving an insufficient answer!

What happened next was a blur in HurricaneAubrey's mind. All she remembered was a hostile object hurtling towards her, much larger than the decomposing cabbages that flew over her. Dealing with both commanding the Internet Police agents and dealing with the protestors, HurricaneAubrey had only a few seconds before this item would strike her down. Instinctively, she took out her baton and wacked it.

"Take that!" yelled HurricaneAubrey with a smile.

HurricaneAubrey gazed at the protestors and saw looks of horror. HurricaneAubrey heard gasps from her fellow Internet Police agents.

"What?" said HurricaneAubrey blankly. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

The Internet Police guards, some of whom covered their gaping mouths with one of their hands, pointed their fingers at the object HurricaneAubrey had just struck. HurricaneAubrey focused her sight on the fallen object, and she saw that it was a little girl. The unarmed girl was crying as her face had blood spewed across her forehead, with the red liquid progressing past her eyes.

"Why?!" cried the little girl.

The protestors and the Internet Police guards had the same question as well.

"Why?" asked the protestors.

"Why?" questioned the Internet Police guards.

"I just… I didn't mean to…," stammered HurricaneAubrey.

What followed was a mostly dialogue-less confrontation that could summed up as the protestors charging into the Metropolitan Museum of Art, pushing past the demoralized Internet Police guards. Most shockingly, some of the Internet Police agents switched their allegiance to the protestors in response to HurricaneAubrey's poor leadership. HurricaneAubrey remembered how she led what was left of the Internet Police guards through the museum to save its collection from the vandals. She recalled her team carrying away Emanuel Leutze's Washington Crossing the Delaware as the protestors glued pictures of crime-ridden neighborhoods to the painting. She then recounted how the protestors tried to throw acid onto the Impressionist paintings, with the Internet Police agents riot shields being the only defense against the toxic chemicals. Finally, she remembered how she tried to restore order while she led her Internet Police guards into the exhibit where the ancient Temple of Dendur was located.

"Go away! You barbarians!" shouted HurricaneAubrey as she led her soldiers towards the protestors as they tried to carry away the stone blocks.

"You call us barbarians for trying to survive!" shouted one protestor. "These stone blocks are just sitting here. Why not use it for building homes for us to live in since Georgie put them to the torch. Or are you against the homeless."

"Get the fuck out of here!" screamed HurricaneAubrey to the protestors. She held up her baton high in the sky and announced her official command to her guards. "Beat the shit out of them!"

The Internet Police guards rammed their riot shields at the protestors and proceeded to club them, with HurricaneAubrey punching a protestor in the face.

"Are you back from your flashback yet?" asked Disaster Girl.

Returning from the traumatic street that was memory lane, HurricaneAubrey was panting heavily as she was on her knees.

"I regret what I did that day," answered HurricaneAubrey with tears in her eye.

Disaster Girl gave a grin as she shook her head.

"You naughty girl. While I was stuck here, I heard your fellow agents lambasting your handling of the incident, how you failed to maintain order and caused much of the Met's priceless artwork to be ruined," said Disaster Girl. "I also overheard them talking about the dream you had in the last days of the Second War. Do you want me to give you the details of your dream?"

"No. Please don't," sobbed HurricaneAubrey.

"I'll be more than happy to summarize it," said Disaster Girl over HurricaneAubrey's protests. "You were frolicking in the fields of the English countryside when you came across a mansion. HurricaneAubrey smiled as she entered the house and saw the various paintings. This girl was stupid enough to touch the paintings with her bare hands. Apparently, this girl caused the paintings to bleed. I wouldn't want to be that girl who would just allow art to be vandalized. Just imagine what the press would say if that girl oversaw security at a museum."

Disaster Girl saw HurricaneAubrey now reduced to being on her hands and knees, with the Internet Police agent now breathing heavily.

"Looks like my work here is done," said Disaster Girl as she walked away from HurricaneAubrey.

"Stop," whispered HurricaneAubrey.

Disaster Girl stopped. She turned away to see HurricaneAubrey holding a gun in her trembling hands.

"Really?" said Disaster Girl in a bored tone. She held up her unlit match. "Let's keep going shall we. Let's start with h…. OW!"

HurricaneAubrey saw a shadowy figure punch Disaster Girl in the face, knocking the Modern Herostratus unconscious. HurricaneAubrey saw her savior unmasking herself, revealing this individual to be Jennxpenn.

"Ain't got time for boring psychological crap," said Jennxpenn.

Fred Figglehorn was running. He had his fingers jammed into his ears as Chief Horner and TamashiiHiroka were chasing him.

"La la la! I can't hear you! La la la!" shouted Fred.

"Remember what you did to our brave men and women during the First and Second Wars!" shouted Chief Horner.

TamashiiHiroka was trying to think of a good argument to use against Fred as a way of subduing him. But the only topic running through her mind was Pokémon. She thought about how a trainer would face a wild Pokémon in battle, and Fred was certainly wild. When playing a standard Pokémon game, she would capture a wild Pokémon by inflicting it with status conditions, ailments meant to hamper a Pokémon from battling effectively. She thought about such attacks that would burn, freeze, poison, or paralyze the Pokémon, but alas, she lacked the proper equipment required for these conditions.

"I tried putting Fred to sleep, but it appeared to be not effective against the boy," thought TamashiiHiroka as she continually sprayed sleeping gas onto Fred. "If only he could remove the fingers from his ears, then I'll be able to confuse him with logic."

TamashiiHiroka looked at Chief Horner for any suggestions. Chief Horner looked dispirited as she pursued Fred.

"There's no point in negotiating with this terrorist," lamented Chief Horner as she saw Fred closing in on a glass elevator.

"I win!" shouted Fred as he turned around to taunt Chief Horner and TamashiiHiroka.

Out of nowhere, a blonde Internet Police agent tackled Fred to the ground and punched him repeatedly until he was unconscious.

"Jennxpenn," said both Chief Horner and TamashiiHiroka with stunned expressions, especially considering that the victorious Internet Police agent lacked a gas mask.

"How would you evaluate my performance Chief?" asked Jennxpenn with a smile as she sat next to the knocked-out Fred.

"I would say exceptional," said the Nerd as he emerged from the shadows with a bloodied face. "Sorry about my appearance. I just won a duel with Mr. Plinkett and Nadine."

The Second Battle of Chicago had been won by the Internet Police. It was undeniable that the Internet Police had triumphed in America against the Heartlanders and the Irish mob. But now laid the unenviable task of driving the Heartlanders led by Frank Murdoch and Roxy Harmon out of the captured German and Italian cities. Standing next to the Cloud Gate sculpture in Chicago's Millennium Park, the following Internet Police agents were in different states of emotions. Chief Horner and the Angry Video Game Nerd were having a serious discussion on strategies to win the War of European Succession. TamashiiHiroka was playing Pokémon on her Game Boy to distract her from the upcoming war. Jennxpenn was busy trying to think of Vlog ideas addressing her hatred for Heartlanders. And HurricaneAubrey was just standing next to an injured Nostalgia Critic as he laid seemingly unconscious on a stretcher, with HurricaneAubrey staring blankly in the opposite direction at Cloud Gate.

"On a lighter note, the Internet Police suffered no loss of life from our battle with the Irish mob, and we managed to return all of the Asylum subjects back to their cells," spoke Chief Horner.

"On a darker note, we must gather enough supplies and soldiers to take on Frank and Roxy's Heartlanders in Germany and Italy," said the Nerd. "I could go for a drink right now considering what's facing us in Europe. Have all the wounded Internet Police agents been accounted for?"

"Yes. We found them all. From the now inedible Atmospheric Chocolate Room to the beaten down Universe Room," answered Chief Horner.

"Good to hear," said the Nerd with relief. "On an unrelated note, why did your predecessor thought it was a good idea to construct such frivolous rooms like the aforementioned Atmospheric Chocolate Room and the Universe Room. Or how about unnecessarily wasting the Internet Police's limited budget on creating a cafeteria with the proportions of a medieval cathedral or replicating the Tuscany landscape with the Elysian Fields."

"That's a question for the ages," admitted Chief Horner. "As you already know, I used to be a scientist at the Institute of Internet Studies, and you are well aware of the rivalry between the Internet Police and the Institute of Internet Studies. My partner Forest Gibson and I used to joke about how my predecessor built these white elephants to show off against the Institute of Internet Studies, with the Institute only constructing massive buildings for useful purposes only. I mean, an Atmospheric Chocolate Room? Come on!"

"Yeah. Why not spend that money on actually improving the military capabilities of the Internet Police?" suggested the Nerd.

"Another theory I have is that my predecessor needed these rooms to encourage Internet Police agents to remain with the agency instead of quitting for greener pasture. After all, the life of an Internet Police is not for the faint-hearted. As an agent, you will see things that you don't want to see. Am I correct in that assessment, Nerd?" stated Chief Horner.

"I'm afraid so," said the Nerd. "Though is it really necessary to reduce the Internet Police Complex in Boston to a series of ordinary office buildings with only a few lines of omnidirectional glass elevators?"

"I thought you were aghast at the wasteful spending of my predecessor," said Chief Horner.

"I am. It's just that I wonder if you're going a bit too far in downsizing the Internet Police. Can we afford your relentless pursuit of budget cuts? Your predecessor would be quite critical of your decision," commented the Nerd.

"I'm the Chief of the Internet Police now," said Chief Horner in a dismissive tone as her eyes shifted towards the ruined skyscrapers caused by the First Battle of Chicago. "How my predecessor would have run the Internet Police has no bearing on the matter. I believe that these budget cuts are essential considering that funding for the Internet Police is at an all-time low. I am committed to making the Internet Police solely dedicated to fighting the scum of the web, and I'm not going to waste valuable resources on giving our agents massages and manicures. It is my belief that we are servants of the public. We must make sacrifices in ensuring their well-being. Do I make my clear?"

"Yes," said Jennxpenn.

Chief Horner and the Nerd gave their undivided attention to Jennxpenn as HurricaneAubrey's apprentice gave her opinion regarding Chief Horner's decision-making.

"I agree with your governance of the Internet Police. We should get rid of the unneeded fat from the budget. I would like to suggest the idea of maybe eliminating certain Internet Police agents who don't meet the high standards of the agency," said Jennxpenn as she looked over her shoulder at HurricaneAubrey. "We already had several Internet Police agents leave due to cowardice or disagreeing with your leadership Chief Horner. Would I be wrong to say that the mass exodus of agents has reduced the cost of maintaining the Internet Police?"

"No," replied Chief Horner. "And considering the U.S. government is prepping for another round of massive budget cuts, I will consider this surplus of money a positive."

"Glad to hear you agree with me," said Jennxpenn. She turned to face the Nerd. "Do you remember how we fought off Dramatic Chipmunk in the Enrichment Center just before we faced the subjects in the Asylum?"

"How could I forget?!" said the Nerd excitedly. "Though I was a bit disappointed considering how the Dramatic Chipmunk was defeated by a simple taser. I was expecting more of a challenge."

"I was disappointed in a different way," said Jennxpenn. "I wanted the Dramatic Chipmunk to be a real talking animal, but I soon found out that the prairie dog who called himself the Dramatic Chipmunk was actually an advanced robot created by cultists. Guess you can't have everything in life."

"Just like in the case of Millennium Park," said the Nerd. "Having lived in Chicago for quite some time as an Internet Police agent, I learned about Chicago's history that included the construction of Millennium Park. The completion of the park was delayed repeatedly, and while the London Eye and the Millennium Dome were opened on schedule in time for the new Millennium, Chicago's Millennium Park failed to meet that deadline. In the end, corporate sponsors were needed to fuel the Millennium Park project to the end. I'm sure some Chicagoans were less than pleased with getting less than they anticipated. Well that's life."

"At least these Chicagoans could enjoy Pokémon 2000 to ease their embarrassment regarding the Millennium Park being incomplete in 2000," commented TamashiiHiroka looking up from her Game Boy.

"Do you have to interject Pokémon into everything?" asked the Nerd. "Not everyone is a fan."

"I'm surprised you're not a fan of Pokémon considering you are a gamer. After all, Pokémon is one of the most successful video game franchises of all time," said TamashiiHiroka.

"I'm more of a Mario fan," said the Nerd. "He was a part of my generation. I was too old when Pokémon came along."

"I'm a fan of Pokémon," announced Jennxpenn. "I believe that Pokémon inspired several important memes on the internet. I bet you researched them while you were a scientist at the Institute of Internet Studies, Chief."

"We did. Some of my fondest memories as an Institute scientist were when Forest Gibson and I investigated how realistic Pokémon was to real life," said Chief Horner. "But we all know how George Zazz put an end to that research."

"I'm sorry with how Georgie ruined everything for all of us," said Jennxpenn. She then whispered into the Chief's ear. "I would suggest looking into the personal records of some of the agents. I think some may still be harboring some loyalties to Georgie."

At Cloud Gate, HurricaneAubrey heard everything from Chief Horner's talk of budget cuts to the merits of Pokémon spoken by TamashiiHiroka and Jennxpenn. Looking at the three woman and the one man talking with much energy and charisma, HurricaneAubrey felt excluded.

"At least the Critic has the excuse of being incapacitated after his fight with his father that resulted in General Walker's death," said HurricaneAubrey as she placed her hands over her face, with her eyes being revealed from the spaces between her fingers. "Why did I buckle under pressure from being taunted by Disaster Girl?"

HurricaneAubrey thought about ways of disproving claims of her being an incompetent Internet Police agent. She needed evidence that she was still a capable agent, but she knew that her breakdown in the Asylum was known by everyone.

"How humiliating," said HurricaneAubrey. "Okay. Try to think of your accomplishments as an agent. There must be a whole volume of them."

Try as she might, she couldn't. It is an unfortunate truth that humans tend to remember traumatic and cruel memories much easier than happy ones. HurricaneAubrey could instantly visualize the disaster at the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum as well as the fiasco at the MET.

"Where are my happy thoughts?" questioned HurricaneAubrey to herself.

HurricaneAubrey saw Cloud Gate in front of her, which was nowadays barely seen by anyone considering Chicago's quarantined status.

"I became a full-fledged Internet Police agent at this site when the Nerd gave me the badge," said HurricaneAubrey. "On that same day, I interpreted Cloud Gate as a representation of the transfiguration of one's life. It certainly applied to my time as an Internet Police agent for better or for worse. It's been an incredible journey being an Internet Police agent."

HurricaneAubrey began pacing as she thought of what she achieved as an agent.

"I just… I just can't remember my successes as an agent," cried HurricaneAubrey. "Maybe this is a sign that my time as an Internet Police agent has come to an end. It appears that my failures are more prominent than my accomplishments."

With her arms crossed, HurricaneAubrey pondered about a scenario where she would leave the Internet Police.

"Before becoming an Internet Police agent, I was unemployed and desperate for work, any work. I tried getting a position at art museums, but I was passed over for seemingly having no talent or skills. Eventually, I was brought into the Norman Greeting Card Company as a warm body to make greeting cards for a tyrannical dictator of a boss," thought HurricaneAubrey. "Now that the greeting card company is permanently out of business (not that I wanted to be rehired there anyway), where should I go if I leave the Internet Police of my own accord?"

The Critic was fully awake with his eyes wide open as he continued lying on the stretcher. Meanwhile, HurricaneAubrey looked at Jennxpenn talking quietly with Chief Horner as the latter was giving occasional stares towards her. A moment of panic was arising within HurricaneAubrey.

"Is the Chief going to fire me?" said HurricaneAubrey. "Could it be because of my recent failures? Or maybe she believes my regrettable past with George Zazz is a liability for the agency. If I'm fired, then I won't have the luxury of having enough time to craft a plan that would help me navigate the job market of a post-industrial world. Where will I go? How will I live? Will I have to take a soul-crushing job? Or will I have to make due with being a bum on the streets?"

Chief Horner approached HurricaneAubrey. The agent's hair was disheveled, and black circles encircled her eyes.

"Yes Chief," said HurricaneAubrey in a professional tone.

"I heard that your little sister was hitchhiking through Central Europe," spoke Chief Horner. "Do you remember where she was when you last spoke to her?"

"She was in Venice, Italy," said HurricaneAubrey. "Oh no!"

HurricaneAubrey went off in the distance and took out her portable device. She was trying to get in touch with her little sister, hoping she was safe from the War of European Succession. Chief Horner understood the situation completely, and thus, she moved on to determining the well-being of the Critic.

"Everything okay Critic?" asked Chief Horner.

The Critic gave a thumb-up while his eyes were closed.

"Good," said the Chief as she walked away from the Critic's stretcher.

The Critic breathed a sigh of relief when he opened his eyes to see the Chief far away from the stretcher and talking with TamashiiHiroka.

"I need someone to go to British Internet Police and the French Internet Police as a diplomat on my behalf," said Chief Horner. "I think you're the right person for the job. Do you accept?"

"I accept," said TamashiiHiroka without question. "I won't let you down, Chief."

"Excellent," said the Chief.

Rome. The city invokes the legacy of the Roman Empire, the entity that conquered much of the Mediterranean world. Ironically, the city itself would be occupied by foreigners for much of its history. A complete list of non-Italian rulers of Rome would be long and exhaustive to cover. The main point is that Rome was a city of such prestige that anyone who could take it would be filled with immense pride. It would be Frank Murdoch that would be on top of the world as he, dressed in a brown business suit, was touring the newly captured Eternal City with Roxy Harmon, who was wearing a pink Chanel suit. He was giving a presentation of Rome's history and culture to a live audience, with the cameras following him as he gave insight on why Rome was the center of Western civilization. While in the ancient Roman Forum at night, Frank was telling the audience about the assassination of Julius Caesar on the Ides of March.

"In 44 B.C., the Roman Senate conspired to kill Julius Caesar, successfully performing the deed on March 15th. What was the result of Julius Caesar meeting his demise by multiple stabbings? A series of bloody civil wars that brought Rome to the brink of destruction. If only Julius Caesar wasn't assassinated early in his reign, he could have done so much more than bring Roman culture to Gaul and establish the Julian calendar. His influence could have averted the eventual collapse of Rome and prevented the Romans from creating an Empire based on low-quality bread and circuses," explained Frank.

Frank motioned his hand towards the Roman Colosseum.

"For all its majesty, the Roman Empire fell because of its appeal to the lowest common denominator, which would have been avoided if Julius Caesar hadn't been mercilessly killed. The Colosseum was an arena where the weak and helpless were slaughtered for the amusement of the Plebeians. But Roxy and I are here to fulfill the dream of Julius Caesar and bring back the Roman Empire in the form of the nation of Europa, and I will be its Emperor and Roxy will be her Empress. The era of cruel and unusual entertainment will come to an end with the rise of the Heartlanders. Good day, and good night to all of you here in Europe and beyond," said Frank as he adjusted his tie to appear more formal.

The broadcast was finished. The camera crew departed, leaving Frank and Roxy alone in the ancient Roman Forum.

"Look at this. No annoying tourists mucking up this sacred area. No vendors selling tacky and inappropriate t-shirts. The Roman Forum has been restored back to its former glory thanks to me," said Frank as he stretched out his arms.

Frank looked at Roxy to see how excited she was of their successes in the War of European Succession. He was taken aback to see Roxy appearing crestfallen.

"Why the long face?" asked Frank.

"We may have taken several Italian and German cities, but we are running low on resources and men. I anticipate that our initial surprise attack will be met with a devastating counterattack from the uncaptured German and Italian cities as well as their neighboring allies. In other words, we're fucked if we don't drastically change our strategy to compensate our shortcomings," said Roxy. "Namely our association with Emperor George. The public sees the Heartlanders as a continuation of Emperor George's failed American experiment. They view us as the villains."

"We're fine," said Frank as he lit up a cigar. "If we stick to our morals, then we will win. It doesn't matter if we must level the all the glass skyscrapers of Frankfurt or demolish those tacky tourist shops in Venice Don't worry. All this bloodshed will end once and for all when we conquer Europe."

Frank saw Roxy's worried face. The middle-aged man caressed the hair of the young woman barely older than a teenager.

"If you're worried about governing Europa as Empress, then I'll make sure we build that farmhouse in France we always talked about during our killing spree across America. After France falls, I'll get the finest architects and builders to recreate an authentic French farm that will serve as our vacation home. Let's see. We'll need ducks to have servings of foie gras. Sheep for wool and lamb chops. Vineyards for the finest wines. Pigs for the…"

Roxy was barely listening to Frank as he rambled on about what he wanted for their French country house. She was concentrating on what Frank said about wanting the bloodshed to eventually end.

"What happens once the bloodshed ends? Dealing with boring bureaucratic crap. I can't have that. I need to keep fighting," thought Roxy. She looked back at the Colosseum, which was illuminated by spotlights. "I want to be bathed in a pool of blood."

Roxy crossed her arms as she imagined herself swimming through a pool of blood in the Colosseum. Frank raised his eyebrows as he then saw Roxy smiling as she then stretched out her arms.

"You're looking happy right now. That's the Roxy I like to see," said Frank.

In Roxy's mind, she was showering under a thunderstorm of blood in the Colosseum.

"I want this so badly," thought Roxy as she grinned. Her smile faltered when she returned to reality. "Frank and his buddies probably want peace after victory, but I want a continuous flow of blood. Besides, they alone can't hold the cities for long."

She remembered her meetings with Siberian General Natalia Petrovskaya. The general had emphasized the vast military resources Siberia possessed compared to the measly equipment stolen by the Heartlanders.

"I need to make an alliance with the Siberians," thought Roxy.

It was a March characterized by betrayals. Roxy was going to conspire with General Petrovskaya in removing Frank and his cronies for her own gains. And thousands of miles in the American city of Chicago, an Internet Police agent was also on the path of treason. The highway of no return for this Internet Police agent began in Chicago's public forum known as Millennium Park.

 **Please review this story to provide me some advice on improving it. What other internet personalities or memes should the Internet Police encounter? Thank you.**


	7. Arcadia Part 1

**I do not own any of the internet personalities or memes presented in this story.**

The Internet Police: Year in Review

Arcadia, Part 1

Since the advent of airplanes at the dawn of the 20th century and the World Wide Web during the last years of the 20th century, humanity has become much more interconnected. Of course, there were some who wanted no part of this post-industrial world. The extent of their isolation varies between every individual or group. One of the most well-known was the Amish. The Amish were a congregation of Anabaptists (Christians who practiced baptism at an adult age) who fled Europe to escape persecution. They eventually settled in what is now America during the early 18th century, and overtime, they became estranged from the outside world due to the rapid technological advancements that occurred since the 18th century. It is a common misconception that the Amish has shunned all uses of electricity and other modern gadgets like the telephone and the automobile. In truth, most Amish are familiar with these technologies, such as using a telephone to conduct business or accepting rides within a car for traveling purposes. On the other hand, the Amish only use these conveniences sparingly and to a much lesser degree than most Americans. And one of these Americans who couldn't live life like an Amish was Jennxpenn. Trapped on a mission with HurricaneAubrey in Holmes County, Ohio, Jennxpenn was trying to get an internet connection as she laid in a handmade bed while dressed up like a typical Amish woman.

"Why isn't there any internet out here?!" yelled Jennxpenn. "I want my daily dose of funny cats. And I can't see with no light bulbs. These gas lamps are useless."

"Quiet," said HurricaneAubrey in the dining room. "I'm trying to figure out how Mr. Saul is conducting these pranks on the Amish."

"Remind me again why we are here, and how is it worth it to abandon all our modern conveniences to live like the Amish," said Jennxpenn.

HurricaneAubrey understood that Jennxpenn knew the answer to why they were here and why they needed to blend in with the Amish. But knowing how Jennxpenn was trying to get her reprimanded by the Chief and all the other Internet Police agents, HurricaneAubrey decided to give a civilized response.

"I believe you know who Mr. Saul is, Jennxpenn," said HurricaneAubrey.

"He was a close friend of mine," said Jennxpenn, surprised that HurricaneAubrey wasn't angry for feigning ignorance about the mission. "We used to collaborate with each other on various YouTube videos. That was before what he did in Japan. I can tell you with all honesty that his acts were unacceptable and disgusting."

Jennxpenn and HurricaneAubrey knew about Mr. Saul's reprehensible behavior in Japan. They thought it would be best not to go into further detail.

"After the PR disaster from his Japanese trip, Mr. Saul, the despicable prankster that he is, decided to lay low for a while. After his fifteen minutes of infamy ended, our sources tell us that he has secretly infiltrated the Amish settlement of Arcadia here in Ohio," explained HurricaneAubrey as she looked through the photographs she had secretly took while living amongst the Amish. "From what I photographed, Mr. Saul was able to somehow use a spray can to graffiti red paint onto the Amish buildings, and he did this without being detected. His stealth ability also enabled him to detach horses from their buggies and to kick down the doors of the Amish houses."

"And without the aid of security cameras or armed professional guards, the Amish stand no chance against this prankster wreaking havoc on their town," said Jennxpenn.

"But the most damaging prank of all is Mr. Saul taking pictures of the Amish without their permission," said HurricaneAubrey.

"Doesn't that make you a hypocrite since you were going around the town and taking pictures of the crime scenes," said Jennxpenn.

"Of course not," insisted HurricaneAubrey. "I only took the most relevant and necessary images from my portable device, none of which showed the individual faces of the Amish. The Amish believe that having their pictures taken up close is a sign of vanity and egotism, and because of this, I took every precaution to avoid personal photographs of the Amish during my investigation. When I asked the Amish elders if I could look for Mr. Saul in Arcadia, they agreed provided I integrated myself into their ways and followed their rules such as adhering to their dress code and avoid taking facial photos. Does that answer your questions, Jennxpenn?"

"Yeah. I guess so," said Jennxpenn as she took a selfie with her portable device. "How do we know that Mr. Saul is taking personal photographs? Like I said, I was a close friend of his. I would have recognized him in a heartbeat. He's not here."

"He's here, and he is taking the personal pictures," insisted HurricaneAubrey. "Eyewitnesses within Arcadia reported seeing flashes of light being directed towards their face followed by a clicking noise. Since no Amish indicated they saw an old-fashioned camera, the light and the clicking sound must have come from a portable electronic device that has multiple applications. I doubt that any Amish would care enough about these devices to learn about them. So that means that Mr. Saul is, like us, hiding among the Amish."

"I know Mr. Saul, and I doubt he would be willing to pretend to be Amish as a way of pulling off some cheap pranks," said Jennxpenn. "My guess is that he got an Amish boy or girl to do his dirty work while he is hiding in some modern hotel preparing for his latest viral video titled 'Pranks in the Amish Hood'. Whoever is taking the pictures isn't being very discrete considering he or she would capture embarrassing Amish faces while leaving the flash and clicker feature on. I believe that the perpetrator is an Amish boy or girl with little to no experience with portable electronic devices. Do you agree with my assessment, HurricaneAubrey?"

"I disagree entirely," said HurricaneAubrey. "I cannot believe that an Amish boy or girl would sell-out their entire community like that. It's unfathomable to me."

"Still the Georgie lover," snickered Jennxpenn.

Jennxpenn saw that her portable device recently found an internet signal, though the connection was faint and weak in the middle of Amish country. She searched for information regarding the Amish, and after browsing over a few pages, she came across the information she needed.

"When we're out of this primitive wasteland, please look up the term 'shunning' if you are thinking of admiring the Amish," said Jennxpenn. "I'm going to sleep and dream about relaxing in a jacuzzi."

With Jennxpenn asleep, HurricaneAubrey walked around the darkened room.

"Was an Amish boy or girl responsible for these pranks on the Amish town of Arcadia?" thought HurricaneAubrey. "What makes Jennxpenn so sure that it was an Amish child who did this? What if it was an Amish man or woman?"

HurricaneAubrey frowned at this assumption and modified what she had just thought.

"It isn't any Amish person at all. It is all Mr. Saul's doing. That curly haired scoundrel. He's the only one doing these pranks. All for internet views and sponsorships," said HurricaneAubrey. "We'll get him and put an end to this madness."

HurricaneAubrey went back to the dining table, and with the gas lamps providing minimal lighting, she looked over a sheet of paper that listed the names of all the Amish residents in Arcadia. Without warning, she fell asleep at the table.

"Wake up," said Jennxpenn as she tapped HurricaneAubrey on the shoulder.

HurricaneAubrey lifted her head from the table. She saw Jennxpenn already at the front door.

"Good thing I had my portable device to wake me up," said Jennxpenn as she held her electronic phone in her hand.

HurricaneAubrey frowned as she yawned and stretched her arms. She then noticed that something had been altered to the names of Arcadia's Amish inhabitants. A name was circled.

"Obadiah Fisher," read HurricaneAubrey.

Under the orange hue of the early morning, HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn were traveling on roller skates to the town center. To an outsider, it would seem unusual for modern roller skates to be associated with Amish women wearing plain blue dresses and white bonnets. But the Amish were adept in blending the old-fashioned with cutting-edge technology.

"Isn't it wonderful how the Amish can take the best of modern technology and excise the worst excesses of today's world," thought HurricaneAubrey as she admirably gazed upon the fields of wheat being harvested by horse-drawn plows. "For example, the Amish are into genetically engineered crops."

HurricaneAubrey saw the orange sky becoming bluer as she skated past a horse-drawn buggy. The couple driving the buggy gave HurricaneAubrey a friendly wave as she noticed that there was a loving family in the back.

"Maybe I want to join the Amish," thought HurricaneAubrey with a smile. Her smile then turned into a frown. "You want to abandon your whole life of modern conveniences to live like someone from the 1800s."

"Can't believe that our gas-powered refrigerator couldn't pump out ice," said Jennxpenn bitterly. "I would like to exchange it for an electric-powered refrigerator that could serve you ice-cold tequilas and allow you to set its temperature using a touch-screen."

"You're really a ray of sunshine," said HurricaneAubrey sarcastically. "At least we have a refrigerator. We could've been stuck with an ice box."

Jennxpenn then went on an incoherently rant on how she missed microwavable foods.

"I can give up my microwave for a chance of living amongst the Amish permanently," thought HurricaneAubrey. "But on the other hand, I'll have to give up much more than the microwave. I'll have to give up my television, my private car, my unique clothes, and the internet."

"If the Amish are looking for new recruits for their way of life, count me out," exclaimed Jennxpenn as HurricaneAubrey skated silently past Amish homes with solar panels on their roofs.

Reaching Arcadia's town center, the two undercover Internet Police agents were shopping for goods for Arcadia's barn-raising event. Since the barn-raising involved the entire community, it would be the perfect opportunity to search for the culprit behind the Arcadian pranks. Looking over baskets of Amish dolls (which lacked facial features), Jennxpenn and HurricaneAubrey found ingredients to making pies for the barn-raising crew.

"I think we got everything we needed," commented HurricaneAubrey. "Time to go to the construction zone."

HurricaneAubrey had her basket of pie-making ingredients filled to the brim. She started heading to the construction site when Jennxpenn was looking at the Amish dolls.

"They look really cute," said Jennxpenn as she picked up one of the female dolls.

"How does it feel?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"Soft," said Jennxpenn. "I might get some after we complete this mission."

"Good to hear," said HurricaneAubrey sincerely.

"Though I would like to draw a face on these dolls. A smile would go a long way in maximizing their cuteness," said Jennxpenn as she placed the doll back into the basket.

"These dolls have no faces for the same reason the Amish don't have their pictures taken. It all has to do with vanity," said HurricaneAubrey. "To the Amish, dolls with faces create unrealistic expectations for human beauty, such as having no acne or having flawless lips. If Amish children saw how perfect these dolls are, then they will experience a psychological breakdown. They will lament the fact that the Amish community lack the proper equipment or facilities that would allow them to become as aesthetically pleasing as the dolls they owned. All in all, these dolls have the potential of wreaking havoc on the Amish community if they were made to have faces."

"Never knew that dolls could cause such trouble," said Jennxpenn. "One can only imagine if the internet would become widespread in Amish land. And it came in the form of Mr. Saul and his partner in crime Obadiah Fisher."

"Is that why you circled his name on the list?" asked HurricaneAubrey as she and Jennxpenn walked towards the field where the barn-raising would happen. "Do you have proof of this Amish teenager being Mr. Saul's apprentice?"

"I heard reports around town that Obadiah has been a bad apple since he reached puberty," said Jennxpenn. "When I was trying to sew a blanket through my bleeding hands, I overheard two Amish mothers complaining about Obadiah being a bad influence on their kids. While I was riding a bicycle, I overheard some Amish cyclists comment on Obadiah being nothing but trouble. And that's not getting into the rumors that he sneaks into 'English' towns to browse the internet for fun. Why does he need to go all the way to England for that?"

"English refers to any non-Amish folk according to the Amish," corrected HurricaneAubrey. "Anyway. I'm sure that Obadiah isn't responsible for these pranks. And even if he is, he's probably been blackmailed by Mr. Saul to do his bidding."

"He's doing it of his own free will," insisted Jennxpenn. "He wants to escape his oppressive Amish life and is collaborating with Mr. Saul as a way of leaving Arcadia. Obadiah's previous attempts of being disowned failed, and so, he's resorting to these pranks to finally convince the Amish to let him leave forever."

"I don't believe it," retorted HurricaneAubrey.

"Let's get to the barn-raising, and you'll see how the Amish pushed Obadiah over the edge," said Jennxpenn.

In the early 19th century America, the Amish felt more at home with their "English" neighbors. Their neighbors were also farmers like the Amish and lived the same austere life. In the late 19th century, the English in both Europe and America underwent a technological revolution that uprooted society entirely. This was the beginning of the schism between the Amish and the "English". One such break from the "English" came with how barn-raising occurred. In modern America, barns could be built with electrical tools and heavy machinery, which reduced the number of workers needed to complete the project. The days when the community would gather together for the labor-intensive task of raising a barn were gone. But the Amish shunned the conveniences of the modern world and kept the traditional barn-raising intact. At their unaltered barn-raisings, their laborers were not muscular construction workers or specialized engineers but ordinary men, women, and children. The men would deal with the actual construction of the barn. The women would cook the meals for the male laborers. And the children would assist in minor tasks like light lifting of materials. As women, Jennxpenn and HurricaneAubrey were assigned to cooking duties as they watched to see where the prankster would strike.

"I need more flour for the pies," said HurricaneAubrey as she was mixing ingredients together.

As the other Amish women helped her in preparing the pies, Jennxpenn was preoccupied with looking at the men pulling up the frame of the barn with ropes and pulleys.

"Aren't you going to help us make the pies?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

Jennxpenn leaned closer to HurricaneAubrey.

"Aren't you forgetting that we're on a mission to stop a prankster," whispered Jennxpenn.

"I know that," said HurricaneAubrey. "I'm looking for the prankster as well."

"Doesn't look like it considering how devoted you are in making the best Amish pies," said Jennxpenn.

"I'm just blending in with the locals," said HurricaneAubrey. "We need to be as inconspicuous as possible."

Jennxpenn let out a sigh.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say that you want to join the Amish and their backwards ways," said Jennxpenn.

HurricaneAubrey gave Jennxpenn a friendly smile. To Jennxpenn, this was a clear indicator of HurricaneAubrey's wish to join the Amish.

"Enough of this," said Jennxpenn as she moved away from the cooking table. "I'm going for a walk. Maybe I'll see something interesting along the way."

HurricaneAubrey watched as Jennxpenn ambulated towards the barn whose walls were being raised over the wooden framework. She was obviously looking for the prankster.

"She's not going to find Obadiah," thought HurricaneAubrey. "It's all Mr. Saul's doing. The more I think about it, the more I believe that Mr. Saul is wholly responsible for this whole affair. My initial thoughts about Obadiah being Mr. Saul's assistant were merely the ramblings of my doubts about the well-intentions of the Amish. Look at the Amish working together to build a barn for one family."

HurricaneAubrey saw the Amish busying themselves with constructing the barn. Harmony was thriving in Arcadia. There was no sign of strife as the men built, the women cooked, and the children assisted.

"No constant newsfeed of endless obituaries, no signs of mass killings, and no indicators of economic inequality," thought HurricaneAubrey. "Maybe I can live a life outside of the Internet Police and without the internet in general."

HurricaneAubrey continued her routine of stirring as the grass around her moved gently due to the wind.

"But what about the fact that the internet enabled you to learn so much about the world. Wasn't the internet responsible for connecting families across long distances and fostering friendships across different cultures," said a voice in HurricaneAubrey's head.

There was a frown on HurricaneAubrey's face as she thought about her rose-tinted view of a life without the internet.

"Are you sure that you'll be fired from the Internet Police in the first place? Don't count yourself short," thought HurricaneAubrey.

Since embracing Amish ways was such a complex decision, HurricaneAubrey decided to focus entirely on the current mission before delving into this life-changing choice.

"Don't underestimate the marvels of the modern world," said a fleeting voice in HurricaneAubrey's consciousness.

Jennxpenn was strolling around the barn as it was taking shape over the bucolic fields of Ohio. The harmonious noises of hammers and hand-powered saws were foreign to Jennxpenn accustomed to a life of high-tech computerized gadgetry and electricity. She remembered her school field trips to Amish country while living in Pennsylvania. She recalled being bored out of her mind as a little girl who didn't care about the Amish wanting to separate themselves from the outside world. The little girl who wanted to go on more interesting field trips was forced to suffer being lectured about how the Amish churned butter, how they debated about whether to have outhouses or indoor plumbing, and whether they could ride inside cars. And that mindset didn't change as she was once again in Amish country. She didn't really care about the well-being of the Amish. She only cared about catching Mr. Saul and not about assisting a backwards people who shunned the practicalities of modern life. She also couldn't understand why HurricaneAubrey had affinity for the Amish.

"She's a George Zazz lover," said Jennxpenn as she moved past a group of men carrying a wooden board over their shoulders. "I bet she even had a crush on the man considered how pompous and snobby he was. I'm glad I was a resistance member through and through. Maybe her joining the Amish is a way of honoring George Zazz's memory. She's weak if she needs Georgie that badly."

Jennxpenn giggled to herself as she concluded that HurricaneAubrey was not fit for being an Internet Police agent.

"Now to find Obadiah and have him lead me to Mr. Saul," thought Jennxpenn. "He must be planning his prank right about now."

Jennxpenn saw the Amish men trying to calm a horse that was attached to a wagon loaded with wooden planks. She noticed that the horse's harness wasn't fashioned properly.

"Excuse me, that horse isn't properly attached," said Jennxpenn.

The Amish men listened to her and fixed the horse's harness. But they didn't thank her or even made eye contact with her.

"What's their problem?" thought Jennxpenn. "Whatever. Obadiah must be nearby."

Moving closer to the unfinished barn, Jennxpenn saw that an Amish boy was blind-folded as he was walking towards the table where HurricaneAubrey and the Amish women were preparing the pies.

"I've got to stop him," thought Jennxpenn. "Obadiah must have told him to play a game of blind man's bluff, and after making the boy dizzy, he must have informed him to keep moving forward as a way of catching him. But of course, Obadiah intended for the boy to crash into the preparation tables and create an embarrassing situation worthy enough to post on the internet."

Jennxpenn marched after the boy, but then she stopped short.

"If everything goes according to Mr. Saul's plans, then Obadiah will get cocky and snap pictures and record videos of the debacle on a portable device. If my assumptions that Obadiah is poorly educated on operating modern electronic devices, then he will expose himself quite clearly to two agents well versed in detecting high-tech items in a backwards environment," thought Jennxpenn. "Let's wait and see what happens."

The scenario of an Amish boy walking towards an outdoors kitchen would be comparable to a train about to crash into a car parked on the railroad tracks. Predictably, neither the train nor the boy would come out unscathed. Neither would the car or HurricaneAubrey with the latter standing at the table that was in front of the Amish boy.

Crash!

"Ouch!" yelled the Amish boy as he still wore the blindfold over his eyes.

Jennxpenn hadn't planned for the Amish boy to walk directly into HurricaneAubrey's table. And she saw HurricaneAubrey being surrounded by a group of angry Amish men and women. Perhaps they believed that HurricaneAubrey was equally responsible for not spotting the Amish boy quickly enough to prevent the spill of flour and milk onto the grass. Soon afterwards, flashes of light and the sounds of a camera caught Jennxpenn's attention. She saw Obadiah taking pictures from a mobile device of the crash between the boy and HurricaneAubrey's table.

"It was him!" yelled Jennxpenn as she pointed her finger at Obadiah.

"I'm out of here! Free at last! You hear that everyone! I was the one responsible for all of these pranks!" cried Obadiah with excitement.

Forgetting all about HurricaneAubrey confronting the entire Amish community, Jennxpenn pursued Obadiah across the fields and through the town. She saw Obadiah get onto a horse-drawn buggy.

"Giddy up!" yelled Obadiah as he convinced the horse to pull the buggy at a breakneck speed.

Stranded on the side of the dirt road, Jennxpenn tried to think of an alternative mode of transportation besides running futilely against the horse-drawn buggy. Fortunately, there happened to be a horseless carriage passing by. Unfortunately, it was a slow-moving milk truck carrying milk cartons for the remote town of Arcadia. It was the best Jennxpenn could hope for.

"Get out. I'll be driving this truck," said Jennxpenn to the truck driver who was dressed like he was from the 1950s.

"I thought Amish people weren't supposed to drive motorized vehicles," said the milkman.

"Times changed. Amish are driving now," said Jennxpenn as she threw the milkman out of the slow-moving truck.

Despite the excruciating slowness of the truck, Jennxpenn was still able to catch up to the horse-drawn buggy. She saw Obadiah trying to communicate with Mr. Saul through his earpiece.

"An Amish girl is behind me now. And she is driving. What do you want me to do?" asked Obadiah to Mr. Saul. "She must really hate my guts if she's going to risk being shunned to get to me."

"Leave it to me," said Mr. Saul, whose voice was clearly audible to Jennxpenn as Obadiah had cranked the volume on his earpiece to the maximum level.

Jennxpenn heard something moving within the buggy.

"With this remote-controlled Maxim gun that I stole from the abandoned ruins of George Zazz's Ohio base, that Amish bitch won't know what hit her. Literally," said Mr. Saul, unaware that Jennxpenn could hear him.

Having received an early warning, Jennxpenn ducked her head as a hail of bullets came flying from the buggy to the milk truck. Ignoring the glass flying around her, Jennxpenn kept the car going as it was catching up to the buggy.

"You didn't tell me about the English weaponry in the buggy!" yelled Obadiah to Mr. Saul. "This wasn't a part of the deal!"

"When you're a popular YouTuber, you can get away with anything," said Mr. Saul. "Including firing rubber bullets with George Zazz's Maxim gun. Obadiah! Did you capture the footage of the Amish girl's look of horror?"

"I did," said Obadiah as he held the portable device in his hand. "Or at least I think I did."

"You're so unreliable," commented Mr. Saul. "I bet you can't even operate a fucking potato peeler. Lucky that you were even able to record my pranks in Arcadia despite your prehistoric ways. Whatever man. Just try to get a better shot of that terrified Amish girl. She must be scared shitless with the stunt I pulled. Her reaction would be the perfect ending to my video 'Pranks in the Amish Hood'."

Obadiah looked back at the milk truck, fully expecting the Amish girl to be crying and begging for mercy. Instead, he saw that the Amish girl was holding up an electronic device while she was still driving. The girl with a large smile on her face tore off her bonnet, revealing her flowing blonde hair in the process.

"My name is Jennxpenn. It would be smart to get off the buggy while you still can," said Jennxpenn as she aimed the electronic device towards the horse-drawn buggy.

"Jennxpenn?" said Obadiah loudly, unintentionally broadcasting the name to Mr. Saul.

"Jennxpenn!" screamed Mr. Saul.

"Welcome to the modern world," said Jennxpenn as she launched the flamethrower feature on her Electronic Database.

A burst of fire was propelled from the Electronic Database to the buggy in the back. Obadiah got off the buggy just in time, leaving only the horse to drag the buggy engulfed in an inferno. Jennxpenn saw the Maxim gun being rendered unusable because of the flames. With Obadiah on the side of the dirt road, Jennxpenn parked the milk truck next to him.

"Tell me where Mr. Saul is," said Jennxpenn as she towered over Obadiah.

To make a long story short, Jennxpenn failed to obtain Mr. Saul's whereabouts from Obadiah. Frustrated, Jennxpenn marched with a handcuffed Obadiah back to the field where he caused the barn-raising fiasco. She knew that Obadiah would most likely be shunned for his pranks. Reaching the field, Jennxpenn and Obadiah saw the entire Amish community of Arcadia gave angry stares at Obadiah. Not only that, the Amish had evidently formed a circle around HurricaneAubrey.

"And you are still defending Obadiah after all he just did?" shouted one Amish elder.

"He only did what he did because he was influenced by Mr. Saul," explained HurricaneAubrey.

"Did this Mr. Saul plant poisonous ideas into Obadiah like wanting to travel the world and play musical instruments?" said a teenage Amish girl. "These actions are even worse than the pranks he pulled on us."

"Is it really that bad to travel the world or be a pianist?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"Of course, you harlot!" shouted the teenage Amish girl. She turned to her fellow Amish. "I, Mary Winthrop, have been faithful to the Amish while this whore has not."

"I must be dreaming," thought HurricaneAubrey as she felt a chill flowing through her body as she watched as Mary pointed at her with disdain. For a brief second, HurricaneAubrey saw Mary gave a smug smile as the Amish girl continued her rant.

"I have devoted my entire life to learning how to become a faithful wife. I will give my future husband many children that will be of great help around the farm. How can this witch compare to me? I had my suspicions about this woman since she came here and displayed her look of utmost disgust at the outhouses that her neighbors were using. It was when this Amish woman insisted on getting a house with indoor plumbing that I grew suspicious of her faithfulness to our ways. I took it upon myself to observe her from a distance, and lo and behold, my actions were justified as she, like a poor mother, failed to stop this boy from ruining our feast preparations and is now defending Obadiah's sins," said Mary.

"Don't worry," said HurricaneAubrey as she gave a brief glance at Obadiah. She proceeded to defend Obadiah's honor. "Obadiah is just a kid."

"Just a kid?" remarked Mary incredulously. "He has just finished his rumspringa, after which he gave us his full consent to commit himself to the Amish way of life. During the rumspringa, we gave him a chance to leave us in peace so that he can pursue his sinful ways of the English world. He refused this opportunity, and at first, we thought he had finally joined us. Such a shame that he changed his mind immediately afterwards. Unlike him, I knew I wanted to join the Amish since I was a little girl. I have remained steadfast to the idea ever since. Why can't he?"

HurricaneAubrey saw Mary's arms being crossed in an arrogant manner. Mary interrupted her before she could answer her question regarding Obadiah's allegiance.

"I think I should remind you what a rumspringa is since the sinful ways of the English has made you forget," said Mary as she giggled.

"For your information, I know exactly what a rumspringa is!" shouted HurricaneAubrey. "It is a rite of passage involving Amish youths experimenting with modern lifestyles as a way of making an informed decision on whether or not to join the Amish. I think this is flawed."

"What?!" shouted all the Amish in unison. "Shun her! Shun her!"

"Such blasphemy!" yelled Mary.

HurricaneAubrey now saw that there was no hope to reconcile Obadiah with his Amish brothers and sisters. It was time to make one last stand not for Obadiah's sake but clarifying her allegiance to the modern world. She saw the Amish looking at her with eager anticipation of what she had to say. There was a long silence as HurricaneAubrey tried to think about what she wanted to say.

"Well," said Mary. "What else do you have to say? Because I have plenty to say."

Once again, Mary began lambasting HurricaneAubrey's supposedly poor Amish upbringing.

"This is just sad," said Jennxpenn as she saw HurricaneAubrey acting like a deer in the headlights.

Jennxpenn pushed her way past the Amish circle and grabbed HurricaneAubrey's hand.

"And where do you think you're going?!" screamed Mary as she pointed her finger at HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn running for their lives as Obadiah simply followed them.

Jennxpenn gazed upon HurricaneAubrey's face. The veteran Internet Police agent was trying her best not to cry. Alas, she was human, and as such, her eyes were watery as incomprehensible words were being spoken from her mouth. Looking back at the unsympathetic Amish mob, Jennxpenn decided to rage against them.

"You all are full of shit!" shouted Jennxpenn. "You think the morality of a person is determined where they shit, how they travel, or how much they can fail at playing the piano. I'm glad my female partner and I only pretended to be Amish to save your ungrateful asses from these pranks. Hope you're proud of yourselves."

"I am," said Mary. "And I intend on convincing my brothers and sisters on removing any vestiges of 'English' corruption like solar panels or roller skates. I think a purely Amish lifestyle will be the way forward."

"Suit yourself," said Jennxpenn as she saw Mary waving goodbye to them in a patronizing manner.

In Ohio's Rust Belt, Jennxpenn and HurricaneAubrey were searching a closed greeting card store in the middle of the night. They were looking for Mr. Saul outside of Amish country using modern flashlights. Jennxpenn was glad to be back in the modern world with its conveniences. Dressed in a white blouse underneath a blue suit jacket accompanied with a yellow ribbon tie and a blue skirt, Jennxpenn was ready to bring Mr. Saul to justice.

"Where could this son of a bitch be?" asked Jennxpenn as she shined her flashlight throughout the store, whose aisles had signs reading 'Going out of Business Sale'. "The clues we found pointed us here. What do you think, HurricaneAubrey?"

Jennxpenn waited for HurricaneAubrey to give an answer. HurricaneAubrey remained silent.

"HurricaneAubrey?" asked Jennxpenn again as she shined her flashlight onto her partner's face. It appeared that HurricaneAubrey's eyes were non-blinking and directed to the stained floor. "I need some assistance."

"Why do you need my help? I'm just your apprentice now," said HurricaneAubrey.

"Only temporarily," said Jennxpenn. "And besides, it's your own fault that you were demoted. You did exceptionally poor in Amish country. Who was it that captured Obadiah? I did. Who successfully saved us from the Amish mob? I did. Who was more focused on wanting to join the Amish instead of stopping Mr. Saul's pranks. That was you."

HurricaneAubrey's fist was being clenched into a ball as she continued listening to Jennxpenn's tirade against her.

"I should remind you that Chief Horner agreed with me on your disastrous performance in Amish country. As you want to forget the reason why you are now my subordinate, I'll give you the explanation in full. Chief Horner saw how you seem to be losing your Internet Police skills, and because of this, she decided that it would be best to take a backseat while I, a real agent, would guide you to prevent any booboos on your part. You're lucky that you weren't dismissed from the Internet Police considering your lackluster qualities and your undying love of George Zazz. You got that HurricaneAubrey?" said Jennxpenn.

HurricaneAubrey merely nodded.

"Good. Now let's go hunt down the bastard Mr. Saul," said Jennxpenn.

Jennxpenn began knocking over shipment boxes filled with Easter greeting cards, indicating that Easter was coming up in the month of April.

"Why am I looking inside egg cartons?" said Jennxpenn as she opened cartons containing Easter eggs. "Where is he?"

Jennxpenn was trying to think of what to do. She then saw the aisle stacked with chocolate eggs and Peeps. She began opening the packages and started eating them.

"Where could he be?" thought Jennxpenn as she began gobbling up the Easter treats while sitting on the floor.

Getting up, Jennxpenn walked over to HurricaneAubrey as the latter remained stationary at the same spot. The eyes of HurricaneAubrey darted from the floor to Jennxpenn holding opened boxes of sweets.

"Uh… I'm going to pay for everything," spoke Jennxpenn through a mouth stuffed with Peeps. "I'll make sure to offer an anonymous donation to this store."

"No. I'll pay for it," said HurricaneAubrey.

Jennxpenn was taken aback.

"I am lower-ranked than you now. And besides, it would be the first step to atoning for my sins of being nostalgic for a nonexistent past," said HurricaneAubrey. "I was wrong, and you're right."

There was silence in the greeting card store. Jennxpenn thought she would be jumping for joy or gloating about her superiority over HurricaneAubrey. But that feeling never came. Instead, she felt sorrow for seeing a broken woman addressing her faults.

"What happened to me?" questioned HurricaneAubrey as she looked over her hands. "What should I have told the Amish about my incompatibility with their lifestyle? Maybe I should have explained how humans can still be immoral regardless of technological levels? Or should I have brought up how modern technology has been a blessing on humanity? Or how teenagers barely at the cusp of adulthood are forced to make life-changing choices like joining the Amish or choosing a career field? I don't know where I should begin."

"How about cutting all of the bullshit and just saying 'I love my modern life.'? Simple as that," suggested Jennxpenn.

"But what about establishing an introductory point, a main body of arguments and proofs, and a conclusion to summarize all the issues brought up in your statement and to defend against potential counterarguments?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"I don't need all of that fat," said Jennxpenn. "That's the problem with you being an Internet Police agent. You're so focused on defeating your enemies psychologically that you forget that a clear, direct action would do the trick. It's like trying to put out a house fire by using a complicated mix of chemicals when you could've just used a bucket of water to extinguish the flames. Just say 'I hate the Amish because they don't have electricity.' What's so hard about that?"

HurricaneAubrey thought about what Jennxpenn had to say. The blonde Internet Police agent saw the emptiness in HurricaneAubrey's eyes as the latter began to speak.

"I hate not having electricity," said HurricaneAubrey.

"See. That's better than listening to an essay on quantum physics," said Jennxpenn.

HurricaneAubrey felt liberated. No longer did she had to abide by the constraints of complex sentences and thoughts. No more second guessing herself. No more overanalyzing things.

"I absolutely love relaxing in a hot jacuzzi," said HurricaneAubrey out of the blue. "You can't get that in Amish country."

Jennxpenn was impressed with how HurricaneAubrey accepted the new norm.

"Screw living backwards. I can't live without electricity or air conditioning," said Jennxpenn.

Jennxpenn and HurricaneAubrey were giggling amongst themselves, which was a rare event.

"My mind is at rest," thought HurricaneAubrey as she enthusiastically accepted Jennxpenn's philosophy on being a good Internet Police agent. "I'm ready to combat Frank and Roxy's continuation of George Zazz's evil empire, and my sister is going to be proud of me for not sucking up to George Zazz's regressive doctrine. I have the perfect strategy to win in Europe."

"Let's go get Mr. Saul," said Jennxpenn.

In the days after the newfound friendship between Jennxpenn and HurricaneAubrey, Frank Murdoch was giving a televised speech in the Rome's Colosseum regarding the center of civilization.

"As an American soldier, I was stationed in Iraq. Between my military duties, I had found time to explore the ruins of a ziggurat and tour the National Museum of Iraq. I was expecting to see a great collection of artifacts from the Fertile Crescent, the birthplace of civilization. But what I got was broken pottery and ransacked archeological sites. It boggles my mind how the modern people of the Euphrates and the Tigris could act so uncivilized to their predecessors. I wanted to ask my superiors in the U.S. military for greater assistance on protecting the legacy of the first civilization, but they rebuked me, saying that people were more important than Mesopotamian trinkets," said Frank. "As if that excuses anything."

"I'm getting word that the viewers watching this on the internet are saying that you consider old clay pots more important than the lives of children," spoke Roxy through Frank's earpiece.

"So be it if anyone values the lives of the uncivilized over that of civilized objects," said Frank out loud. "These uncivilized Iraqis have brought shame upon their ancestors."

"I'm getting feedback that your Iraqi statement was racist," said Roxy through the earpiece.

In order to gauge popular opinion and to garner support for the Heartlanders, Frank had been equipped with an earpiece at Roxy's insistence. Upon reading live comments and watching instant video vlogs from her laptop, Roxy could inform Frank on what the world was thinking about his televised speech. So far, he was losing in the public arena that was the internet.

"It's not the Iraqis who are uncivilized, it's also the Greeks and the Italians," said Frank as he held up one index finger from his outstretched hand. "What happened to them? Take the Greeks. They are drowning in debt right now with a mediocre army. In ancient times, Greece was the center of learning and enlightenment, spreading their superior culture from the deserts of Egypt to the plains of India. I'll tell you what happened to the Greeks. They became uncivilized."

"This just in. Everyone is telling you that the Greeks practiced slavery and that you should shove your statement of modern Greeks being uncivilized up your ass," spoke Roxy through the earpiece.

"Athena herself is lamenting the fall of the Greeks," said Frank without impunity. "Once the Greeks proved themselves unworthy of being the center of civilization, it would be up to the Romans to carry the burden of civilizing the barbarians of the world. Combining the ideas and innovations of the Babylonians, the Egyptians, the Phoenicians, and the Greeks, the Romans were the epitome of the word civilized. Tell me what inventions that wasn't conceived by the Romans."

"How about the internet?" said Roxy as she read a list of online comments to Frank. "Or the car. Or popcorn."

Frank grimaced at how badly he was butchering his speech. Had he lost his golden touch after being Emperor George's Bulldog. He couldn't think properly right now considering the barrage of negative comments flooding online. Regardless, he was determined to save face.

"Who will restore the civilization of the Romans? The answer is the Heartlanders led by yours truly Frank Murdoch. Like the Romans, we are a civilized people who will restore Europe back to her greatness. We have already liberated several German and Italian cities from savagery, incorporating them into the new nation of Europa. Soon, we will march our liberating army to free the rest of Europe," said Frank.

"Aren't you the man who massacred those poor people in Queens, New York?" said Roxy as she read a scathing comment to Frank.

"Who cares!?" blurted out Frank in front a bewildered live audience both televised and present in the Colosseum.

Besides speaking to a global audience, Frank was also delivering his speech to an elite group of Heartlanders that consisted of the Italian mafia, renegade American soldiers, and other dignitaries Frank didn't recognize at the top of his head. Their opinion of him mattered just as much as the viewers watching him from the comfort of their homes. He cleared his throat and began his closing statement.

"I'll finish my speech by showcasing where I am right now. I am standing in the Colosseum. This is the culmination of all the civilizations that came before the Romans. We have the masonry techniques pioneered by the Egyptians and the influence of ancient Greece with the presence of Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian columns. This is the symbol of Rome's extraordinary impact on Western Civilization," said Frank. "This is the epitome of civilization triumphing over the barbarians still living in straw huts."

"Weren't people killed in the Colosseum to please the savage Roman masses? How dare you callously dismiss the cruelty the Colosseum inflicted on its victims? Those poor animals," said Roxy as she read the online comments to Frank.

"Oh crap," said Frank. "What I meant to say was that the Colosseum was the downfall of Roman civilization when the masses lowered their intelligence by watching bloody spectators that mocked both decency and civility. I mean, that's like today's mindless entertainment like reality tv programs and talk shows. We are standing at the Roman Colosseum, where civilization goes to die. I hope you learned a valuable lesson. That message would be that the Heartlanders are the light of the world and the legitimate successor to Emperor George's Institute Army."

"Fucking Zazz. You really going to honor a man who was responsible for the Great Schism of America, which killed over half a million people. Fuck you, Frank. Fuck you," said the online messages being read by Roxy.

"I say this as my parting words for the evening: Internexus Vult!" proclaimed Frank as he held his fist into the air.

Frank was expecting the masses in the Colosseum to reply with thunderous applause. Instead, there were a few polite claps that echoed in the night sky. Roxy saw the messages that appeared on her laptop saying such words like epic fail, what a disaster, you're going to be dead like Georgie, and should've just surrendered and saved the police the trouble of catching you. She was about to close her laptop when one message stood out among the rest. It was from a user called GeneralNatalia.

"It's time, Roxy. Don't mess it up," said the words written by one GeneralNatalia.

Knowing that the time had come to act, Roxy closed her laptop and began walking onto the partially covered floor of the Colosseum. She saw Frank standing behind a speech podium. For a man who was stationed at the spot where the Roman emperors would watch gladiator matches and address their wishes to the Roman patricians and plebeians, he was looking rather uneasy and unconfident. Roxy was situated on the ground where the blood of so many victims of the Colosseum was spilled, and in contrast to the agony and cries of the prisoners who perished in the Colosseum, Roxy let out a smile.

"I want you Frank to join me on this stage," said Roxy as she started pointing her fingers at the various individuals in the crowd, mostly older men. "Along with you, you, you, and yes, even you."

"Why?" asked Frank.

"I have something very important to say to all of you personally. Something that requires an intimate and personal conversation. I would say that it would even win us the War of European Succession," announced Roxy.

Frank looked around at the people Roxy selected to join her on the Colosseum's ground level. They consisted primarily of the Italian mafia. Frank shrugged his shoulders and made his way to the Colosseum's floor. He made his way past the torches that gave natural lighting to the amphitheater. They were meant to give his speech a more dignified and atmospheric touch, but as he heard about the online response to his oratory performance, he concluded that the torches unimpressed the electronically wired world.

"Everyone here?" asked Roxy.

"Pretty much," said Frank as the last of the chosen individuals made their way around Roxy.

"Good," said Roxy as a human-sized birdcage was wheeled behind her.

Roxy opened the cage's door and walked into it. She then took out a key from her jean pocket and proceeded to lock herself inside the cage.

"What are you doing, Roxy?" asked Frank.

"I'm trying to prove a point," said Roxy. "You were given the opportunity to give a speech to try to convince the world to join us. You failed. Let me give you my own speech on why you lost your touch."

"I'm sorry what?" said bewildered Frank.

"I think it is time to end our partnership, Frank. You're clearly a relic of the Great Schism of America. Nowadays, Emperor George is reviled by everyone, and as Emperor George's Bulldog, you will never be respected by anyone," said Roxy.

"Are you suggesting that I should just retire and live the rest of my days on a French farm?" said Frank.

"Who said anything about retirement?" said Roxy as she snapped her fingers.

In the flickers of the torches, the shadows of several large beasts were flooding the Colosseum's floor. Frank and his cronies then heard loud roars. He then saw the source of these horrible sounds: lions.

"Are you fucking serious?!" shouted Frank. "After all we've been through."

"Sorry old friend, but you're not the man I'm looking for," said Roxy. "My heart belongs to someone else. Someone younger and more savvy with today's high-tech world. You can see my new partner sitting underneath the awning in front of you."

Frank saw the person who had dethroned him in the eyes of Roxy. He immediately recognized this individual. Frank fought with this person in the deserts of New Mexico and in St. Louis.

"What?!" screamed Frank. "You really going to fall in love with that creature."

"For your information, my new partnership is strictly professional," correct Roxy with a blush on her face. "And my new alliances have extended to include a Siberian general by the name of Natalia Petrovskaya."

The handlers of the lions were holding onto the chains of the ferocious cats. It was the only barrier separating Frank and his buddies from being devoured.

"I take it you're also in bed with the Russians and their backward Eastern ways," stated Frank. "My countrymen fought and died trying to keep back the Russkies. Must I remind you of Kennedy's defiance of Khrushchev during the Cuban Missile Crisis."

"Ms. Petrovskaya is Siberian, not Russian," said Roxy. "I don't care about being a Heartlander anymore. In fact, I don't care about promoting the American way or even Western values. I think the time has come for a new era in history. One without the archaic past weighing down on human progress."

"You've got to be joking, right," said one of the mafia members

"What is she blabbering on about?" questioned another Italian mafia member.

"I am referring to your executions and the dissolution of the Heartlanders' rule of Europa," said Roxy.

"After all we've been through, the countless criminals we killed across America, and the bodies we crushed underneath our feet, you're really going to abandon our hopes and our dreams to run off with a renegade Internet Police agent and a Russkie," said Frank as he saw Roxy standing confidently inside the birdcage. "What about that farmhouse we were going to live on in France?"

"You're just a cocksucker who can't win wars anymore," said Roxy. "You and your mafia members have become pussified with time. Indeed, the Heartlanders' flag has a red stripe hovering over a yellow stripe. To be fair, the Heartlanders did raise this flag over several German and Italian cities, though their control of those cities is tenuous at best. I believe that the red horizontal symbolizes the blood of Heartlander soldiers soaking the yellow fields of grain."

"What are you getting at?" asked Frank.

"I'm saying that the Heartlanders are not worthy of this flag as demonstrated by numerous skirmishes by hostile locals that has sent us into an irreparable retreat," commented Roxy. "I will not lose the opportunity of seizing power due to a couple of old men being inadequately versed in modern warfare."

"So, this is goodbye then. Do you really think this is a good idea?" asked Frank.

Frank hoped that an ounce of doubt still existed in Roxy's mind.

"Yes," said Roxy.

"Wait!" yelled Frank. "We can still spill our blood for the greater good."

"You will," said Roxy as she snapped her finger.

The lions were unleashed onto the Italian mafia and Frank. The gnashing and relentless roars filled the Colosseum. Like in ancient times, blood spilled across the Colosseum's floor. Not only was there blood as Roxy promised but also several bodily fluids that came from two sources. As for Roxy, she was safely enclosed in a birdcage that protected her from the claws and teeth of the lions. Fortunately for her, the blood of the doomed men and the saliva of the lions flew through the cage's openings, and these objects landed onto Roxy much to her delight. She then saw a bloody hand reaching through the birdcage. It was Frank. Emperor George's Bulldog and the Modern Clyde was lying in a pool of his own blood and entrails.

"What happened to my pretty girl?" said Frank through a blood-stained mouth.

Roxy watched as the man who was her soul mate through their killing spree across America fell to the ground of the Colosseum, denied a noble death by a proper gladiatorial duel or a firing squad.

"Inform General Petrovskaya of what just happened. I want her to see me now," said Roxy to her loyal assistants.

In St. Petersburg's Hermitage Museum, a party was being held in honor of a ceasefire between Russia and the newly sovereign country of Siberia. Dignitaries from both countries were dressed in Soviet-era military uniforms as they discussed the various periods of Russian history, which was appropriate considering they were drinking wine in a special Exhibition space simply titled A History of Russia. For General Petrovskaya, she was asked a question that went beyond Russia's reduced yet still impressing borders that stretched from the Baltic Sea to the Ural Mountains.

"What do you know about the Great Man Theory?" asked a Russian dignitary to General Petrovskaya.

"I am aware that the celebrated Russian author Leo Tolstoy presented a counterargument against the Great Man Theory in the acclaimed book War and Peace," explained General Petrovskaya as she stood against the backdrop of a painting showing Napoleon's Grande Armée succumbing to the harsh Russian winter. "Tolstoy proposed that the course of history was determined by greater socio-economic and geographical forces rather than the decisions of powerful people like Napoleon. Well I'm here to say that the great Tolstoy is wrong."

The Russian dignitary was about to raise his voice when General Petrovskaya raised her hand.

"Let me explain. I know that Tolstoy used Napoleon as an example of disproving the Great Man Theory, but I'll use Hitler as a more contemporary example," said General Petrovskaya.

"Hitler. A great man?!" said the flabbergasted Russian dignitary.

"More like a great failure," said General Petrovskaya with a laugh much to the relief of the dignitary. "Getting back on point, there are some historians who argue that Nazi Germany was doomed to fail due to a combination of external forces: lack of oil to run their military machine, the English Channel hampering Germany's ability to invade Great Britain, the vastness of Russia bogging down the Germans, and the Atlantic Ocean protecting the United States of America from an immediate German attack. That would be Tolstoy's belief. I beg to differ. Hitler lost because of his own stupidity. He expelled every Jewish physicist who could have helped Germany become the first nation with atomic weaponry, and it would be his steadfast belief in Aryan superiority that he diverted valuable men and resources to exterminate non-Aryans on a militarily-useless mission. He could have not declared war on the United States for no discernible reason. Maybe he could have negotiated a better deal with Great Britain."

General Petrovskaya gestured her hand (that was holding a glass of wine) towards a collage of photographs showcasing the Nazi Germany's Siege of Leningrad.

"War between Hitler's Germany and Stalin's Soviet Union was inevitable due to ideological differences. It was only a matter of when. And Hitler struck first. The Wehrmacht came to the outskirts of the city we are currently holding this conversation in," said General Petrovskaya with a tinge of sadness in her voice. "When Hitler invaded the Soviet Union, there were many locals who hated Stalin and were more than willing to side with the Nazis if it meant liberation from the Soviets. Being the ignoramus that he was, Hitler wanted to eradicate these locals just for not being Aryan despite their gratitude towards the invading Germans. Just think of how many more people would have contributed to the German war machine," explained General Petrovskaya. "On the other hand, Stalin was a smarter man who regained his people's love. By his newfound charisma and leadership, he mounted the greatest comeback in history and drove the Nazis back, saving St. Petersburg and all the other Russian cities from obliteration. So, do you now believe me that great men and women shape history and not some arbitrary forces of nature?"

"Yes," said the Russian dignitary. "Looks like I underestimated you. I thought an American woman who only recently joined the Siberian rebels would be woefully unknowledgeable about Russian history."

"You're right. I'm just a naïve American woman with legitimate Russian ancestry who decided to run off to Siberia on a whim. I just so happened to stumble across Siberians wanting to declare independence from a failing Russian state. And I accidently rallied the troops and led several soldiers to fight valiantly against the Russian armies sent to put down the rebellion. You can only imagine my disbelief when Siberia won its independence thanks to someone like me," said General Petrovskaya with a devious smile.

"You have wit. I can see how you won Siberia's independence on the battlefield and in the diplomatic halls," said the Russian dignitary. His smile then turned sour. "Make no mistake. Russia will not let Siberia off so easily. We'll be watching closely to see if Siberia will join the great powers of the world or collapse under its own weight."

"I'll make this century the Siberian Century," said General Petrovskaya.

"A lofty goal," said the Russian dignitary.

"Thank you," said General Petrovskaya as she wandered off, feeling that she ended the conversation well.

General Petrovskaya walked past portraits of Peter the Great and Catherine the Great.

"Testaments to the Great Man Theory," thought General Petrovskaya as she sipped her wine.

"General Petrovskaya. You have a message from Rome," said a waiter as he handed her an electronic tablet.

"Thank you," said General Petrovskaya as she retreated to a darkened room filled with paintings in need of repair. She placed the electronic tablet onto an easel. "Let's see if Roxy did what I told her to do."

General Petrovskaya answered the message on the tablet. She was greeted with lions roaming around the Colosseum's floor covered in corpses. It was a symphony of death. And its conductor was standing in a birdcage as she was covered in blood.

"Roxy! What have you done?!" screamed General Petrovskaya. "I only told you to put Frank and the Italian mafia under house arrest. Not have them all executed in a gory manner."

"I did what I had to do. And I'm not sorry," said Roxy. "And if you're worried about anyone finding out, don't worry. I had all the cameras turned off during the lions' feast. Besides, my loyal subjects in the Colosseum swore an oath to not tell anyone of my night here. Am I right?"

General Petrovskaya saw the Internet Police defector give a nod of approval to Roxy. The Siberian general then saw Frank's lifeless face, with its bulging eyes staring back at her.

"I thought you would have treated Frank with a little more respect. I heard that he was a father to you," said General Petrovskaya as she tried to keep her composure.

"He wasn't giving me satisfaction I wanted," said Roxy as she washed her hair with blood. "Now let's forget about him and move on. I have you to satisfy me. How about we get started on securing Germany and Italy?"

"Only if you stop committing acts of gratuitous and excessive violence," insisted General Petrovskaya.

"But… but…" stammered Roxy like a little girl who just heard that she wasn't getting any Easter eggs this year.

"You stick to my plan or I'll terminate all Siberian support for your cause. Do you understand?" said General Petrovskaya.

"Yes," said a crestfallen Roxy.

"Good," said General Petrovskaya. "Hopefully you have someone to clean up this mess before any outsiders notice."

"I'll clean it up," said Roxy.

The transmission between Rome and St. Petersburg ended. General Petrovskaya was aghast at what she just saw.

"I thought that Frank and Roxy's massacres across America were just online rumors and exaggerations," said General Petrovskaya. "After all, instances of false information are widespread on the internet. But after seeing what I saw today, I can safely say that Roxy deserved her nickname the Virginian Butcher. If I can't control her to my liking, then Europe will beg for the return of the Black Death."

General Petrovskaya looked for solace in the painting in front of her. Much to her displeasure, it was Ilya Repin's painting Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan. It showed Ivan the Terrible, the first Tsar of Russia, mourning the death of his son after killing him in a fit of rage with the royal scepter.

"I would rather have Ivan the Terrible as a partner than Roxy," said General Petrovskaya as she examined the father cradling his dead son. "Let's see if she will join me as a great woman in history."

 **Please review this story to provide me some advice on improving it. What other internet personalities or memes should the Internet Police encounter?**


	8. Arcadia Part 2

**I do not own any of the internet personalities or memes presented in this story.**

The Internet Police: Year in Review

Arcadia, Part 2

In the last days of April, a dramatic event had occurred in Europe. The Heartlanders' dream of uniting Europe under the state of Europa came to a sudden halt. Instead, the German and Italian cities that once constituted the Heartlanders' territories were now under the authority of Roxy Harmon. The name Europa was discontinued in favor of the new European state of Sylvania. On several American news channels like MicroNews and INN, she was received with open arms. But that story can wait until later. For now, three Internet Police agents were concentrating on arresting Mr. Saul. In the Rust Belt of Ohio, the Nerd, HurricaneAubrey, and Jennxpenn were driving to the house where the notorious prankster Mr. Saul was hiding out in.

"Tell me where 476 Arcadia Street is?" asked Jennxpenn to the GPS device.

"When possible, make a U-turn," said a sultry male voice.

"Again?!" said an exasperated Nerd from the back-passenger seat. "That's like the fourth time we've been asked to make a U-turn. What's next, we're going to be told to drive off a bridge as an alternative route?"

Jennxpenn was doing the driving while the Nerd and HurricaneAubrey were the passengers. The Nerd was yelling expletives to the GPS device while HurricaneAubrey just stared outside at the abandoned stores and homes that populated the Midwestern Rust Belt.

"Back in the old days, we had to rely on foldable maps and printed out directions in order to get from point A to point B," said the Nerd.

"Let me guess, you wished that we would go back to the good old days without the crappy GPS," said an exhausted Jennxpenn.

The Nerd just stared into the darkness of the street in front of the car. He didn't know what to say regarding GPS technology.

"You know what's bullshit," began Jennxpenn as she was channeling the Nerd. "Foldable maps and printed out directions. Two pieces of shit for the price of getting lost. Foldable maps take up a lot of space in your car. When you need to figure out where you are, you would have to stop and haul your ass out of your vehicle just to read the map, which is probably outdated anyway. Who has time for that? Same thing with printed out directions. They have the same bullshit qualities as foldable maps except with the bonus of massacring trees."

"Okay okay. Foldable maps and printed out directions are bullshit," said the Nerd. "That still doesn't excuse GPS devices as being bullshit. They're not infallible machines of a utopian future. Often, they're tricksters who fuck with you by telling you to drive left, right, forward, backward, down, and up your ass for no reason."

"Still better than the maps and the printed directions who can't satisfy you beyond a few months," said Jennxpenn. "You're even more obsessed with nostalgia than the Nostalgia Critic. Next thing you'll tell me is that DVDs are bullshit."

"They are," said the Nerd. "Allow me to explain."

"No," insisted Jennxpenn. "Where is the Critic anyway?"

"He's vacationing in Europe. He wanted to get some good old-fashioned rest and relaxation after being injured during the Second Battle of Chicago," answered the Nerd.

"You should listen to the Critic more," said Jennxpenn. "He isn't so blinded by nostalgia as you are Nerd. His name is the Nostalgia Critic after all. And most importantly, he is the hero who stopped George Zazz's reign of terror in America."

"Aren't you forgetting that I, HurricaneAubrey, and countless other people helped as well," said the Nerd. "Right HurricaneAubrey?"

The Nerd looked behind him to see HurricaneAubrey in her seat. She didn't answer.

"Right HurricaneAubrey?" asked the Nerd again.

HurricaneAubrey didn't answer.

"I think I finally got the right directions to Arcadia Street without any U-turns," said Jennxpenn much to the relief of the Nerd and to HurricaneAubrey's indifference.

The long drive to Mr. Saul's hiding spot involved a trip through the Rust Belt of Ohio. Jennxpenn tried desperately to ignore the many tattered posters and billboards proclaiming the glory of Emperor George as she drove past the decaying factories and abandoned residential neighborhoods.

"We're still far away from Mr. Saul's location," said Jennxpenn as she followed the GPS' directions. "It's going to be a long night. How about we talk about what HurricaneAubrey can do to improve herself now that she has become my apprentice?"

Jennxpenn expected an angry retort from HurricaneAubrey. Despite their brief reconciliation in the greeting card store, Jennxpenn was still antagonistic towards her for being a George Zazz lover, and no amount of time and atonement could erase what she did during the majority of the Great Schism of America. Much to her frustration, HurricaneAubrey was entering a pretentious and complex intellectual discussion with the Nerd.

"What are they talking about? Better be about kittens or recreating baby photos," commented Jennxpenn.

Much to her lament, the Nerd and HurricaneAubrey were indeed talking about tedious matters, more specifically Ohio's socioeconomic standing in American history.

"Why did Ohio produce so many Presidents?" asked the Nerd much to Jennxpenn's chagrin. "Seems appropriate since we are in Ohio and we have a long-ass ride to Mr. Saul."

"I'm not a certified historian, but I do know the answer to your question," began HurricaneAubrey. "The long line of Ohio presidents you are referring to were mostly presidents during the late 19th century when Ohio had a larger role to play in American politics."

"There goes HurricaneAubrey," thought Jennxpenn. "Talking about how great the boring state of Ohio was back in prehistoric times."

"During the late 19th century, Ohio was the heartland of America both in industry and in population, and owing to both advantages, it's no wonder that several presidents were from Ohio. And Ohio's prominent place in American history would continue throughout the 20th century with it being the birth of aviation thanks to the Wright Brothers and the astronauts that called Ohio their home," said HurricaneAubrey.

HurricaneAubrey looked sadly outside the car's windows at the decaying video rental stores and the rusting railroad cars still stationed on overgrown tracks.

"I believe that Ohio's glory days may be behind it since we have entered what I along with my fellow Internet Police agents would like to call the Second Gilded Age," said HurricaneAubrey.

"The Second Gilded Age?" asked the Nerd with intrigue as Jennxpenn rolled her eyes. "I heard talk about this time period among my peers."

"The Second Gilded Age. The First Gilded Age took place in the late 19th century, and the Second Gilded Age is where we are now. To understand the Second Gilded Age, we must compare it with the First Gilded Age. The 19th century Gilded Age was when America became an industrial giant, the first skyscrapers were being built within her cities, and the wonders of electricity and telephones were presented to an excited population. As an art enthusiast, I would say that the First Gilded Age also introduced art to the general public for the first time with the establishment of art museums. Before, the enjoyment of fine art was mainly the past-time of the nobility, the clergy, and the wealthy merchants, but around the late 19th century, art was accessible to everyone," explained HurricaneAubrey.

The Nerd saw the Gilded Age mansions that were once inhabited by the captains of industry, but time had evicted the industrialists and the mansions now belonged to stray cats and dogs.

"Ohio has gone to shit," said the Nerd bluntly.

"That's the Second Gilded Age for you," said HurricaneAubrey. "Division, automation, and corporatism."

"So, you would prefer George Zazz take over?" interjected Jennxpenn.

HurricaneAubrey let out a sigh as she placed her legs onto her car seat. She placed her head on top of her folded legs.

"Struck a nerve didn't I," said Jennxpenn with a satisfied smile.

"You really are a jerk aren't you," said the Nerd. "Kicking poor HurricaneAubrey down when she is already at her lowest point."

"She brought that onto herself by being a poor Internet Police agent and maintaining her loyalties to George Zazz," said Jennxpenn. "Chief Horner promoted me to become HurricaneAubrey's superior for a reason. And I'm certain that reason is that the Chief wants to atone for HurricaneAubrey's faithfulness to Georgie."

"For your information, HurricaneAubrey delivered George Zazz's death sentence when she took out his flying glass elevator during the First Battle of Chicago," said the Nerd.

"I bet she had remorse when she did that," said Jennxpenn.

"She did not," responded the Nerd.

"I bet the Internet Police is swarming with George Zazz lovers considering how we adopted his motto Internexus Vult as our own and all this pessimism over a Second Gilded Age," said Jennxpenn. "I can disprove the Second Gilded Age. Divisions don't exist. These rednecks and hillbillies angry at the robots for taking their dirty jobs should just take Computer 101 to become employed again. And corporations promise to protect the environment."

The Nerd placed both of his hands over his eyes, with his fingers rubbing against his forehead. He moaned, a testament to how astonished he was at Jennxpenn's frequent forays into ignorance. HurricaneAubrey said nothing.

"How about this? Let's just get Mr. Saul and then we can continue our little debate at another time," said the Nerd.

"I think I already won," said Jennxpenn.

"Oh really?" said the Nerd skeptically.

Jennxpenn saw in the dashboard mirror the Nerd folding his arms together with a determined look piercing through his glasses.

"We'll see who will have the last laugh," said Jennxpenn.

Stationed outside of 476 Arcadia Street, the three Internet Police agents were peering through their binoculars at the house that had been converted into Mr. Saul's hideout.

"There he is, the little douchebag," commented the Nerd as he saw Mr. Saul doing whatever his generation did on their mobile devices. "Lying in bed probably planning his next prank."

"We should take him out now," said Jennxpenn as she stared through the window at the brightly lit bedroom.

"Wrong answer," said HurricaneAubrey.

"But look what he did to the Amish, and I don't even like the Amish. Mr. Saul is just that despicable," said Jennxpenn. "Why not take him out now?"

"I would like nothing more," said HurricaneAubrey. "But as you can see, 476 Arcadia Street is riddled with booby traps."

"Booby traps," snickered Jennxpenn.

"Real mature," said an unamused HurricaneAubrey. "What traps do you see in the house, Nerd?"

"Home Alone," said the Nerd.

"I get it," said HurricaneAubrey.

"Home Alone?" asked Jennxpenn.

"The quintessential Christmas movie of the 1990s," said HurricaneAubrey. "I watched it several times during my childhood. Mr. Saul must have seen Home Alone, and taking inspiration from the movie, he must have replicated the traps here at Arcadia Street. Strange seeing Home Alone traps in Easter rather than around Christmastime. Do you think that Mr. Saul must have known about the close connection between Christmas and Easter in Christian theology, and as a result, he intentionally decided to use traps in Easter to be diametrically opposed to the traditionally Christmas Home Alone traps?"

"I don't think Mr. Saul is that fucking intelligent," said the Nerd.

"As usual, you're just overthinking and overanalyzing things, HurricaneAubrey," said Jennxpenn.

HurricaneAubrey pretended that Jennxpenn wasn't in the car as she discussed her plan of attack to the Nerd.

"How are we going to get past the door whose knob appears to be glowing red? That's a sign that Mr. Saul placed a heat source intended to maim an intruder's hand," said HurricaneAubrey.

"We could circumvent that area and go for the basement," suggested the Nerd.

"But wouldn't Mr. Saul make great use of the basement's darkness and spring his most deadly traps there?" said HurricaneAubrey.

"Shit. We need to come up with another way," said the Nerd.

The Nerd and HurricaneAubrey were in a deep conversation on how to invade the house on Arcadia Street. Jennxpenn listened as the Nerd was bringing up how Mario would evade the traps using pipes and a Tanooki suit.

"Should've worked harder on perfecting the flying tuxedo," lamented the Nerd. "Any ideas, HurricaneAubrey?"

"How about we try to create a sinkhole underneath the house to undermine its foundation?" suggested HurricaneAubrey.

"How should we do it?" questioned the Nerd.

"They're overthinking it," thought Jennxpenn. "Time to look for a simpler solution."

While HurricaneAubrey and the Nerd focused their binoculars onto the Arcadia Street house, Jennxpenn directed her binocular around the neighborhood. It was a typical Ohio suburb. Nothing more and nothing less.

"Keep looking. There should be an easy solution," said Jennxpenn.

"Looking for the Gordian Knot," commented HurricaneAubrey with a skeptical look.

"That's right," said Jennxpenn. "A knot that even cats can untangle."

"Right," said HurricaneAubrey with a doubtful look on her face before she started bringing up the many Sieges of Jerusalem to the Nerd. "We need some sort of a siege tower to scale the walls if we can't go under the house."

At that moment, Jennxpenn found her answer staring right in front of her.

"Guys. I think we have a plan," said Jennxpenn.

"Quiet," said the Nerd. "HurricaneAubrey and I are in the middle of something."

"I think we should get some basic building materials and construct a crude siege tower to obliterate the outer defenses of the house. The only problem is hauling all of that equipment in a short amount of time," said HurricaneAubrey.

"Still don't respect my authority as your master," said Jennxpenn to herself as she got out of the car. "Whatever."

Jennxpenn got out of the car and entered a pre-made siege tower: a white boom truck. With the keys still attached to the vehicle, Jennxpenn commandeered the boom truck to be stationed in front of the house on Arcadia street. Using the controls of the truck's crane, Jennxpenn steered herself to the house's second floor, and taking out her gun, she aimed it at the bedroom's window.

"I have big plans for my future pranks. I'm going to kidnap one of my buddies, and once I bring him to a secure location, I'm going to pretend to murder my brother in front of him. That will bring in the subscribers," said Mr. Saul as he laid facing upwards on his bed with his mobile device in his hands. He was furiously typing his plans for his next prank victims. "Or how about I pretend to steal candy from little girls. On second thought, it would be easier to actually steal the candy from their weak-ass hands."

"Freeze!" shouted Jennxpenn as she pointed her gun at the window.

Mr. Saul looked up from his mobile device. After rubbing through his curly hair, he smiled as he took out a BB gun from underneath his bed sheets.

"Hello," said Mr. Saul as he took aim at Jennxpenn.

The pellet was launched from BB gun and struck Jennxpenn's arm. She looked at the wound caused by the impact. She was unimpressed.

"Pathetic," said Jennxpenn with a smile and a friendly wave. She then aimed her gun at Mr. Saul.  
"This is a real gun."

"That's fake. You can't be serious," said Mr. Saul with a faltering smile.

Jennxpenn fired, and the bullet flew from the opened window and onto a poster with Mr. Saul's face. The bullet landed directly between Mr. Saul's poster eyes.

"Mr. Saul. You're under arrest by the Internet Police for harassing the Amish, attempted fake murder, planned larceny, insulting the Japanese, and being an asshole," said Jennxpenn as she pointed her gun at the living, breathing Mr. Saul.

"You can't catch me," said Mr. Saul as he bolted out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

"Should have jumped from the window. That would have been safer," said Jennxpenn as she lowered the crane on the boom truck.

"Didn't the Jewish inhabitants dig tunnels to deter the Romans from using their siege towers during the Jerusalem siege of 70 A.D?" said the Nerd as he continue to discuss his plans with HurricaneAubrey on the capture of Mr. Saul.

"I think Mr. Saul is far less clever than the brave Jewish soldiers of 70 A.D.," answered HurricaneAubrey. "I think the British captured Jerusalem from the Ottomans during World War I, but I don't think they used siege towers."

"No, they utilized the might of the British Empire, and unfortunately for us, we have limited funds and no benevolent Internet Police Empire," said the Nerd. "Back to brainstorming."

A thud then came from the driver window of the car. The noise made the Nerd and HurricaneAubrey leap from their seats. They saw the source of the thud pressed against the window.

"Mr. Saul," said the Nerd as he gazed on the bloodied and bruised face of the prankster. "What the fuck happened to you?"

"Fell into my own traps while escaping from her," muttered Mr. Saul as his mouth was pushing against the window.

HurricaneAubrey and the Nerd saw Jennxpenn pressing Mr. Saul against the window as she took out handcuffs in order to arrest the criminal.

"I think we're done here," said Jennxpenn as she looked proud of herself. "Now it's time for me to plan for the debate over the Second Gilded Age."

As mentioned before, Boston was nicknamed the Athens of America. In the 19th century, Boston was the site of lyceums that were intended to educate an adult audience on a variety of topics that had practical and theoretical applications. The first lyceum was established in ancient Athens as a means of encouraging the Athenians to become engaged in philosophical debates about humanity and the workings of the rest of the universe. It was only natural that Boston, as the American Athens, would be the host of several lyceums during the 1800s. Thanks to the efforts of the Chief of the Internet Police Kristina Horner, the lyceum has been revived inside the debate hall of the Internet Police Complex in Boston. The spartan look of the debate hall was a testament to Chief Horner's nickname Madame Austerity. Frugal with budgetary matters, she ordered that the debate hall's layout be like any other high school auditorium, with only the two podiums on the stage coupled with two large television screens being the only distinguishing traits. This debate hall was packed with Internet Police agents that included the Angry Video Game Nerd and Chief Horner herself, with the latter being the moderator of the debate. Backstage, the two debaters were drinking their favorite beverages before they would go on stage to participate in the lyceum. HurricaneAubrey was drinking a glass of strawberry juice as she held a binder full of detailed notes. Jennxpenn was gulping a cup of lemonade as she held one index card in her hand.

"Deep breathes," said HurricaneAubrey to herself as she inhaled and exhaled oxygen.

"Showtime," said Jennxpenn as she emerged onto the stage to a round of applause.

"Good evening fellow Internet Police agents," spoke a seated Chief Horner from behind a plain metal table as she faced Jennxpenn and HurricaneAubrey on the stage. "We are assembled today to resolve a question that has troubled our Internet Police agents: Have we entered a Second Gilded Age? As the Chief of the Internet Police, this lyceum will be conducted in a civilized manner. I'll give HurricaneAubrey thirty minutes to prove that the Second Gilded Age has arrived, and immediately afterwards, I'll give Jennxpenn thirty minutes to disprove HurricaneAubrey's claim. Finally, we'll have each debater question each other in an open forum. It will be up to each Internet Police agent to decide who has decisively won the debate. Without further ado, we'll begin with HurricaneAubrey."

"Thank you, Chief Horner," spoke HurricaneAubrey into the podium's microphone. She had an imposing image on the television screens while dressed in the traditional Internet Police uniform of a white blouse underneath a blue suit jacket accompanied with a blue ribbon tie and a blue skirt. "Let's start with what defines the Second Gilded Age: division, automation, and corporatism."

HurricaneAubrey was giving a detailed description of what she saw in the Rust Belt of Ohio.

"Such negativity!" thought Jennxpenn as she stood behind her podium dressed in a white blouse that was complemented with a blue suit jacket, a yellow ribbon tie, and a blue skirt.

"Ohio's libraries once had storytellers entertaining children with fairy tales. Now the storytellers are homeless with no one willing to listen to their tales. The books in the libraries collect dust and are at risk of being immolated by an uncaring public. It is because of the Second Gilded Age that these libraries are endangered," said HurricaneAubrey. "And let's not forget the burning rivers of Ohio caused by pollutants spilling from the abandoned factories."

To Jennxpenn, HurricaneAubrey was droning on about the negative aspects of life since the end of the 20th century. It was like a grocery list with rotten fruit. Most regrettably, Jennxpenn needed to listen to every word HurricaneAubrey was saying in order to form a valid counterargument.

"There is a cloud of melancholy in Ohio. Rivers are literally on fire due to the pollutant spills from abandoned factories," spoke HurricaneAubrey.

Jennxpenn looked at the index card she brought to the podium. It has only one word. That singular English word was progressivism.

"The Second Gilded Age has widened the divisions in human society. This New Gilded Age has rendered people obsolete with the emergence of frightening, new technologies overseen by corrupt corporations," said HurricaneAubrey.

What final words HurricaneAubrey had to say about the legitimacy of the Second Gilded Age went over Jennxpenn's head. After trying her best to listen to everything her opponent had to say, she had no choice but to concede defeat on retaining everything HurricaneAubrey stated.

"Jennxpenn. Your response," said Chief Horner.

Jennxpenn coughed into her fisted hand and gave her counterargument.

"So much negativity amongst all of you," said Jennxpenn. "Complaining about everything like bitter old men. So reactionary. We need progressivism. I could give a long and boring speech about how the entire Internet Police is so reactionary and how disastrous the First Gilded Age really was. I'll sum up my entire argument with one statistic: 500 thousand Americans. That is how many people lost their lives in the Great Schism of America. And what was the reason for these deaths?"

Jennxpenn looked at the Nerd sitting in the audience before plowing on her criticism of the Internet Police's role in the Great Schism of America.

"Because someone couldn't play movies without a VHS tape," spoke Jennxpenn in a derisive tone. "Because our childhoods were ruined thanks to the Star Wars prequels." She looked at HurricaneAubrey with a disgusted look. "Was it worth it jailing your own little sister to gain a chance to become George Zazz's personal assistant?"

"I did not jail my own sister!" screamed HurricaneAubrey.

"Order! Order!" yelled Chief Horner as she struck a wooden gavel onto the table. "Wait your turn HurricaneAubrey!"

HurricaneAubrey slammed her binder full of detailed notes shut in a non-verbal defiance of Jennxpenn's accusations against her.

"Moving on, Internet Police agents like HurricaneAubrey were gullible enough to follow Georgie on the path of destruction, convinced that the Second Gilded Age was here. It was because of this false belief that 500 thousand lives were lost. I cannot emphasize this enough. Half a million people died because the Internet Police allowed itself to be taken over by a madman. Half a million people was the fee needed to listen to a daily broadcast of Richard Wagner," spoke Jennxpenn. "Before I became an agent, I was against George Zazz from the beginning, and I was courageous enough to join resistance movements from the beginning. I bet all you numbskulls only resisted because he got into the killing business. Couldn't be bothered to overthrow him when he started arresting people for having their dresses being 1 centimeter too short."

All the Internet Police agents were shifting nervously in their seats.

"Even with the perishing of 500 thousand people, the Internet Police still clings to reactionary ideologies that Georgie would have been proud of. We adopted his motto Internexus Vult as our own. We forgot that he used these words as he and his hunting dogs Frank Murdoch and Roxy Harmon rampaged through America, apparently being vindicated by the collective minds of the internet to carry out these crimes against humanity," said Jennxpenn. She motioned her hand towards Chief Horner. "Many of you insist on keeping the frills and other decorative crap when the Internet Police moved to Boston. I am now of the opinion that Chief Horner was right in having the Internet Police headquarters in Boston have only the most necessary architectural designs. We don't need gymnasiums littered with Greek statues or giving our agents manicures. We need an Internet Police that works and wouldn't be pleasing to the reactionary Georgie. I rest my case."

At the end of her speech, Jennxpenn took off her blue suit jacket and dropped it to the floor. There were scattered moments of applause from the audience.

"Now for the question and answer session," said Chief Horner. "Each person on stage will be given the chance to ask a question to their opponent, and hopefully, a clear and concise answer will be given. After that, the opponent will have the opportunity to ask their own question to their rival with the expectation that a rational explanation will be provided. Let's start with Jennxpenn. What is your first question to HurricaneAubrey?"

"Why did you jail your little sister?" asked Jennxpenn.

"I did not," said HurricaneAubrey with a shaken voice. "I just drove her away during the Great Schism. I had no idea of the horrors of her imprisonment on Utopia Island until I joined the resistance. When I broke away from my sister, I was in a vulnerable position after witnessing Fred's atrocities during the Second War in Colorado. George Zazz provided me a way out from that state of hopelessness."

"Please," said Jennxpenn. "I saw a boy being shot by Roxy for messing up one word in the Gettysburg Address. And that still didn't scare me into becoming George Zazz's bitch."

"You're absolutely right," said HurricaneAubrey.

"Are you being serious or are you tricking me into a false sense of security?" asked Jennxpenn.

"I'm telling the truth. It is because of my sins that my sister has been repulsed by me," said HurricaneAubrey. "I might as well have personally dragged my little sister in chains to Utopia Island."

"Maybe you went a little too far Jennxpenn," thought Jennxpenn in her mind. "She's gotten the point by now. Please stop."

"HurricaneAubrey. Your question to Jennxpenn," said Chief Horner.

"You listened to my entire speech about the existence of the Second Gilded Age. Is that right Jennxpenn?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"I listened to all of it," said Jennxpenn.

"Can you argue against today's sorry state of division?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"Would you rather have us be mindless drones reciting quotes from 2001: A Space Odyssey?" replied Jennxpenn. "Perhaps you would prefer participating in race riots against the Irish and the lynching ceremonies of the 19th century Gilded Age. What about how the Amish in Arcadia sowed division despite being supposedly more enlightened with their primitive technology?"

"Your question Jennxpenn," said Chief Horner as HurricaneAubrey remained silent.

"What made you become a resistance member and abandoned George Zazz? Honestly, I need a full and complete explanation," said Jennxpenn.

"To make a long story short, the Nostalgia Critic convinced me. In both France and Japan, he swayed me to change sides after proving to me the flaws of blind nostalgia," said HurricaneAubrey.

"A lesson we need to be hammered into our thick skulls," said Jennxpenn.

"I don't know where I would be without the Critic saving me," said HurricaneAubrey. "He pretty much was the de facto leader of the entire resistance movement. Guess I needed saving."

"We all needed to be saved from George Zazz," said Jennxpenn as she motioned her hand towards Chief Horner. "We can thank the efforts of the Nostalgia Critic and Chief Horner for leading the resistance movement."

"I'm flattered," said Chief Horner with a blush. "But we mustn't forget that Jamie Dubs and Forest Gibson were with me when we planned the overthrow of George Zazz. And the Critic and I wouldn't have been able to lead the resistance without members like agents HurricaneAubrey and the Angry Video Game Nerd. We must also account for the civilian population who contributed to George Zazz's downfall. I'm talking about you Jennxpenn."

"I think we should get back on point," spoke Jennxpenn. "HurricaneAubrey. Do you have any more questions?"

"I do. What do you think about claims of the hypothetical Second Gilded Age being dominated by automation and corporatism?" questioned HurricaneAubrey.

"What's wrong with robots and corporations? They helped build up our modern world. When cars started replacing horses, the horse-drawn carriage drivers were becoming unemployed. Did all of them decided to burn all the cars for depriving them of their livelihoods? No. Instead, many of them adapted to become taxi drivers instead. They kept their basic skills of piloting a vehicle, substituting the horses with internal combustion engines. Apply the same scenario of adapting to technological changes to any other profession," said Jennxpenn.

"Interesting," said HurricaneAubrey without much thought.

"What about corporations? I'll be honest with all of you. I did all my research for this lyceum primarily from YouTube. From several YouTube videos, I learned some truths about the 19th century Gilded Age. After the American Civil War, there were many Presidents who called Ohio home. I'm probably going to be hated by all Ohio residents, but I'm sorry, these Ohio Presidents were forgettable and weak. They were hands-off in their approach with dealing with monopolies run by robber barons like Carnegie or Rockefeller. Where were these Ohio Presidents when the cities were overflowing with rampant pollution? What about with the prevalence of children toiling away in the factories? What about when 1/8th of the American population controlled 7/8th of the wealth? As bad as we may have it now, it wasn't as bad as back then when corporations had no restraint and decency," said Jennxpenn. "Again and again, we keep having this false nostalgia in our heads. But might as well repeat this lesson until we learn it."

"The legacy of the Great Schism of America still lives on I guess," said HurricaneAubrey.

"Let's end this lyceum with positivity. The 19th century Gilded Age was followed by the Progressive Era. And the man who kick started it was none other than Theodore Roosevelt. He busted corporate monopolies when none before had the courage to do so. President Theodore Roosevelt was truly a superhero who defied conventions and introduced lasting reforms. He had help from investigators known as muckrakers who exposed the horrid conditions of the Gilded Age corporations, the most well-known being Upton Sinclair's The Jungle showcasing the appalling environment of the meat industry. Today, we can enjoy an American hamburger without fear of getting sick from it, and if we do get food poisoning, then the laws passed during the Progressive Era can help us get the proper justice we need," spoke Jennxpenn. "What I'm saying is that we should be grateful for what we achieved so far since the 19th century. If this theoretical Second Gilded Age exists, then I would say a Second Progressive Era should come afterwards. Any more questions HurricaneAubrey?" spoke Jennxpenn.

Jennxpenn was on top of the world as she had effectively won this debate. Everyone was beaming towards her with a positive look in their eyes. She turned to face HurricaneAubrey. The veteran Internet Police agent took off her blue suit jacket and dropped it onto the floor.

"I had all of my questions answered," said HurricaneAubrey with a smile on her face.

"Then this lyceum concerning the existence of a Second Gilded Age has now concluded," announced Chief Horner as she slammed a wooden gavel onto the table.

There was a flurry of activity as the Internet Police agents made their way out of the debate hall. Jennxpenn was picking up her blue suit jacket from the stage's floor. HurricaneAubrey also lifted her blue suit jacket from the floor.

"Hey," said HurricaneAubrey to Jennxpenn

"What is it?" asked Jennxpenn.

"Thanks," said HurricaneAubrey.

"What for?" questioned Jennxpenn.

"For saving me. I guess I'm the type of girl that needs to be saved often. The Critic saved me from the psychological clutches of George Zazz in France and Japan. You took up his mantle and rescued me from reverting back to flawed nostalgia," replied HurricaneAubrey. "How about we walk home together and watch a movie on our television?"

"Sure," said Jennxpenn. "I'll see which movie is good for the both of us on one of the many online streaming sources."

"Okay," said HurricaneAubrey. "Shame that libraries and video rental stores are becoming extinct due to online streaming. No more will there be happy patrons browsing the shelves for the latest and greatest in cinema."

"HurricaneAubrey. What did I say about being too nostalgic?" said Jennxpenn with an annoyed look.

"Sorry. Let's just get home and relax," said HurricaneAubrey.

"Good," said Jennxpenn as the two agents held hands as they strolled out of the debate hall.

In Berlin's Charlottenburg Palace, General Petrovskaya was ambulating between her collection of war dioramas imported all the way from Siberia. With many still being assembled by her Siberian soldiers, they chronicled Russia's military history. She saw figurines of Novgorod soldiers defeating the Teutonic Knights at the Battle of the Ice, a preview of Russia's might against western aggression. Another military diorama showcased the Battle of Borodino where Russian soldiers fought against Napoleon's Grande Armée. The miniature cannons and the red paint representing bloodshed from both sides adequately detailed the bloodiest battle of the Napoleonic Wars.

"Napoleon was such an idiot when he invaded Russia," smirked General Petrovskaya as she toppled the literally tiny Napoleon figure with her hand. "Though he won this battle, the Russians weakened his army considerably when they captured Moscow, and when they couldn't hold onto the city, they retreated where they were torn apart by lack of food and the winter. Hitler the imbecile would make the same mistake underestimating the Russians."

She passed by the World War II battlefield reenactments of the Battle of Stalingrad and the Battle of Berlin. These were the ones she most treasured. The Battle of Stalingrad display had scale models of the crumbling buildings shelled by German artillery, and there were miniature Soviet soldiers crawling through the tunnels and rubble of the nearly destroyed city, fighting for the motherland against the Nazi invaders. Kneeling, she peered through the detailed model of the Battle of Berlin, with the bombed-out Reichstag as the centerpiece. She peered through the windows of the German parliament building where she saw miniatures of Soviet soldiers fighting against the German soldiers with machine guns, grenades, and their own bare hands. Getting back onto her feet, she saw the culmination of the Battle of Berlin: a miniature Soviet soldier waving the Soviet flag over the ruins of Berlin.

"Wonderful isn't it," said General Petrovskaya to Roxy Harmon, with the latter arriving to have a private conversation.

"Of course," said Roxy. "And now I have taken over the city of Berlin."

"It is one thing to take over a city or a country. It is another matter to hold onto it. I should remind you of how Napoleon captured Moscow but failed to hang onto it. Or how about Hitler's unsuccessful attempt to subjugate the Soviet Union. Without Siberian support, you would be in chains facing the wrath of an international court," remarked General Petrovskaya. "But instead, you're now beloved by the media. I'll show you."

General Petrovskaya beckoned Roxy to enter a room where a large television screen was mounted over a painting of Frederick the Great. The television was turned on, and it showed what the media has to say about Roxy Harmon, Emperor George's Rottweiler.

"Roxy Harmon is a fine example of young people trying to improve the broken and rusty system of the old Europe. She now seeks to fix things rather than being satisfied with the status quo," said a young male reporter from MicroNews.

"Once a victim of men like George Zazz and Frank Murdoch, Roxy has become a strong, independent woman who intends on changing the future," said a female reporter from INN.

"We demand change, and Roxy Harmon is the way of the future," said a political pundit being interviewed on MicroNews.

"I'm wearing this shirt of Roxy Harmon because I believe she represents real change, and not the bullshit promises proposed by old, white politicians," said a random male bystander on the street. He was wearing a red t-shirt with a black image of Roxy's head.

"Introducing Roxy Harmon!" said a female talk show host to the loud applause of the audience as Roxy was skating on the stage with roller shoes, and Roxy was also holding a basket in her hand. The KC & The Sunshine Band's song "That's the Way I Like it" was being played in the background.

An abridged version of the interview was playing on the screen.

"So, what do you have in your basket?" said the female talk show host as she and Roxy were sitting on a large couch.

"I have here a basket of adorable puppies!" squealed Roxy as she opened the basket's top, revealing a litter of white puppies.

"How cute!" exclaimed the female talk show host. "Do you agree audience?"

"Of course," said the audience in unison as they applauded Roxy.

"I love cute animals!" said Roxy with a girlish squeal. "I'll show you some pictures of the animals I encountered during my trip to Germany."

On a large television screen on the stage, Roxy showed images of her cuddling kittens with the background of the heavily damaged Brandenburg Gate. She then displayed herself hugging a couple more puppies as she was standing in the middle of the destroyed Reichstag.

"Aww," said the audience in a delightful response to Roxy's photographs.

General Petrovskaya turned off the television.

"Stupid humans," said General Petrovskaya with a smug smile. "Because of my advice, the whole world now loves you."

"Not quite," said Roxy. "There is the matter of the Internet Police."

"We'll deal with them in due time when we initiate the next stage in our plan," said General Petrovskaya. "I call it the Great Green Society."

"The Great Green Society?" questioned Roxy.

"It's a reference to President Lyndon B. Johnson's Great Society," answered General Petrovskaya. "You must have forgotten that I was a natural-born American with Russian ancestry, and I would have been taught about the Great Society in an American high school. Not that many Americans nowadays would be intelligent enough to know their own history. Anyway, what is the buzzword of today: green.

"Green? As in money?" asked Roxy.

"I'm thinking about a different kind of green. Though I do hope we'll make plenty of money from our scheme," explained General Petrovskaya. "I am referring to green as it relates to the environment. Green trees, green leaves, green meadows, etc."

"Go on," said Roxy.

"Let's face it, humanity has never been more unpopular than now, and one of the key factors in humanity's self-loathing is environmental damage. There are countless advertisements shaming humans on their role in damaging the natural world and for the exploitation of animals. If we can harness humanity's current low self-esteem, then we can secure your place as the undisputed ruler of Sylvania," said General Petrovskaya.

"And I'll be the one who will direct and produce the movie that will show the entire world why man is evil, all for the benefit of my new partner Roxy Harmon," said a male voice in the shadows.

Roxy and General Petrovskaya looked at the figure in the shadows, and they immediately recognized him.

"You're here early," said General Petrovskaya. "I'll leave you two to carry out the Great Green Society in Germany and Italy, and if you're capable enough, the state of Sylvania will expand to all of Europe."

General Petrovskaya gave Roxy a folder containing the outlines for the Great Green Society before the Siberian woman marched back to her flagship helicopter that was parked in the palace's gardens. Roxy heard the helicopter taking off. She then turned her attention to the man in the shadows.

"So. Let's get started on the Great Green Society," said Roxy to the Internet Police agent in the shadows.

The Brandenburg Gate was the symbol of Berlin's history of triumph and tragedy. Constructed to commemorate the military triumphs of the Prussian state, the Brandenburg Gate suffered through several hardships, the most notable of which were the seizure of its quadriga by Napoleon Bonaparte and its closure to the public with the birth of the Berlin Wall. With the collapse of the wall during the Revolution of 1989, the Brandenburg Gate represented the newfound unity of the two Berlins and the two Germans with the end of the Cold War. The Brandenburg Gate's role at the end of the 20th century would be one of peace and reconciliation. But the Brandenburg Gate's purpose would now be a representation of humanity's wickedness towards the natural world as outlined by Roxy Harmon in her speech explaining the Great Green Society. Wearing a pink Chanel suit, Roxy was following the tradition of President John F. Kennedy and President Ronald Reagan as an American delivering an influential speech to the native Berliners. But while Presidents Kennedy and Reagan's speeches were about the evils of the Soviet Union, Roxy's statement was about the evils that humans had inflicted on the environment.

"For thousands of years, humanity has been raping the natural world. When we discovered fire, our first instinct was to set the pristine forests on fire, killing every innocent creature that ran, swam, flew, or crawled. And the smoke from those forest fires was our first step in polluting the atmosphere, a precursor to the industrial factories that would bellow out clouds of pollutants during the Industrial Revolution," explained Roxy as she was standing in front of the Brandenburg Gate, broadcasting her speech to a worldwide audience. "Look at what was the result of this Industrial Revolution. Plastics in the ocean, choking innocent dolphins and whales who did nothing wrong. Rainforests being slaughtered for the sake of producing toilet paper for humans to wipe themselves of their self-produced excrement. The polar ice caps are melting because humans are pumping harmful gases into Mother Nature's sky. Shame on you, humanity. Shame on you."

Roxy saw the seated audience looking down in shame as she spoke of humanity's destruction of the environment.

"This gate behind me is humanity's arrogance. It celebrates the military triumphs of humans rather than the beauty of Mother Nature. Why have a triumphal gate applauding humanity's violent tendencies towards each other? It's a waste of space that could be utilized for something more environmentally friendly. How about a nature preserve for animals to roam around without fear from the bloodthirsty humans? I think that would be a better idea," said Roxy.

The audience applauded at Roxy's plans for the Brandenburg Gate.

"I think now is the appropriate time to unveil my plans for the occupied cities of Germany and Italy. I intend on crafting the new state of Sylvania from the ruins of man's greed. The basis of this nation would be the Great Green Society. The finer details still need to be hammered out, but I'll give you the basic facts. The tenets of the Great Green Society will be enforced by the Green Army, a special task force that will protect Mother Nature from man's destructive traits. You can consider the Green Army to be the defenders of our little blue planet," said Roxy. "The Green Army will patrol the streets of old Germany and old Italy, looking for the scumbags who want to harm Mother Nature. Humans need to pay for the crimes we committed onto our Mother. The Great Green Society is our penance for our sins against Mother Nature."

All around the world, people watched Roxy's speech on their various electronic devices large and small. Humans of all walks of life were watching and listening to Roxy's Great Green Society plan to cleanse humanity of their unnatural filth. One of the humans watching the speech was General Petrovskaya. From a luxurious, spacious bathroom in Venice, Italy, General Petrovskaya was relaxing in a massive bathing pool. With her long brunette hair tied in a bun as she sat in water that was just barely above her chest, she watched on a large television screen as Roxy was using simple words to describe the Great Green Society.

"Mother Nature is angry. We must repent! Repent! Green is the way!" exclaimed Roxy as she screamed into the microphone and slammed her hand on the podium.

"Humans are simple-minded creatures," spoke General Petrovskaya as she rubbed soap across her arms and legs, moaning in pleasure.

After lifting her leg from beneath the water, General Petrovskaya stared at a sculpture in the far corner of the bathroom. It was Michelangelo's David, the authentic sculpture stolen from Florence's Accademia.

"We're going to take you to a better home," said General Petrovskaya. "Siberia, the unconquerable country."

After untying her hair, she got out of the pool and walked towards the window whose view was blocked by curtains. Not bothering to put on a towel to absorb the water from her smooth skin, she peeked around the curtains to get a view of Venice's Grand Canal. She saw Siberian soldiers using boats and helicopters to plunder Venice's priceless artwork. A helicopter was transporting the original Horses of Saint Mark over a group of soldiers arguing about who was going to handle the Portrait of the Four Tetrarchs that had been chipped away from the walls of St. Mark's Basilica.

"We need a lot more time if we're going to strip Italy of its treasures," said General Petrovskaya as she moved her fingers through her flowing hair. "I'd say the Great Green Society will be sufficient in meeting our need. Humanity already hates itself, and if the Green Army does its job, then humanity will accept Roxy's authoritarian rule without question. And Siberia will reap the benefits of Sylvania's devotion to Mother Nature, with Sylvania's Green Army and Siberia's soldiers redistributing resources all in the name of environmental protection."

"We'll be taking a short intermission before we introduce my most faithful follower of the Great Green Society and the future prosperity of Sylvania," spoke Roxy as she stepped down from the podium.

Smiling to herself, General Petrovskaya walked towards a shower with transparent glass doors. She heard the excited murmurs of the audience open to the ideas of the Great Green Society.

"Funny, Venice has been used as warning of the dangers of rising sea levels," spoke General Petrovskaya as she rubbed shampoo across her flowing, wet hair. "It has been a symbol of mankind's hubris of believing that nature was in their control. With the Great Green Society, we will now make the citizens of Sylvania believe that Venice isn't even worth saving from being submerged. Now, should I make my hair blonde, or should I remain a brunette?"

In a tent just behind the Brandenburg Gate, Roxy was browsing the internet for reactions to her speech introducing the Great Green Society. Much to her delight, they were mostly positive.

"Fuck humanity! Except you, Roxy. You rock!" said one message from San Francisco.

"Forget being President of the United States. Roxy should be President of the World," said another message from Washington, D.C.

"That's the way she likes it!" said a message from Detroit.

"It worked. Natalia Petrovskaya's psychological tactics worked," remarked Roxy. "I'm now beloved by everyone."

Roxy's smile then turned into a grimace.

"Who am I kidding?! That Russian whore didn't do anything. I did all the work. She just used her tits to get me the funds I needed to secure the German and Italian cities for the state of Sylvania. I'm the one who history will remember and not that slut," said Roxy.

Roxy began searching on the internet for historical mass murderers.

"Genghis Khan, slaughterer of the Chinese. Adolf Hitler, principal architect of the Second World War. Joseph Stalin, killer of millions of Soviets during his reign. Mao Zedong killed millions of his own countrymen with the Great Leap Forward and the Cultural Revolution," said Roxy Harmon. "None of these men has ever reached beyond 100 million people. It's a shame that I didn't reach a million people killed as the Great Schism of America only led to 500 thousand people dying directly or indirectly from my participation."

After drinking a glass of water, Roxy headed back onto the stage.

"I'm going to break their records and kill a billion people," thought Roxy as she gave a friendly wave to her admirers. "And the next speaker will help me to that audacious goal."

Upon clearing her throat, Roxy began to introduce her special guest.

"And now ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce to you the legendary hero of the internet. The man who revolutionized online reviews and has recently joined the fight to defend Mother Earth. Give it here for the Nostalgia Critic!" announced Roxy.

A thunderous applause filled the Berlin night sky. The Nostalgia Critic, one of the principal architects of George Zazz's downfall, marched onto the stage adorned with his usual attire. Roxy stood idly by as the Critic gave a warm smile in her direction. With Roxy returning the favor with her own supportive smile, the Critic began addressing his fans both in Berlin and around the world.

"Hello. I'm the Nostalgia Critic. I remember it so you don't have to," said the Critic. "I just had to say it at the beginning. Makes for a good introduction if I do say so myself."

The audience laughed and applauded once more. With the tension of starting the speech dissipating, the Critic launched into the core theme of his statement.

"Though I am famous across the internet, there are some things that may come as a surprise to all of you. Not many people know that I'm German. Well German with some Polish ancestry, but overall, I'm mostly German. And I'm ashamed of what my ancestors have done to the environment. You see, the Germans invented the car in the late 19th century, one powered by an internal combustion engine. You won't believe the environmental damage caused by the automobile, from the noxious fumes emitted by these devil machines to the eyesore inflicted on nature by the roads needed to accompany these horseless vehicles. And let's not forget how the Germans continued their mayhem on Mother Nature in the 20th century," said the Critic. "During the First World War, the Germans invented mustard gas to use against the French and British in the trenches, and what comes to mind when we think about World War One battlefields?"

The audience was whispering amongst themselves. Roxy peered on with satisfaction.

"When I told General Petrovskaya that I managed to get the Critic on my side, she was incredulous. She thought it was mad of me to even attempt to bring him along. And when she met the Critic for the first time in person, she looked at him in a rather off-putting manner. Nevertheless, she was pleased at what I had done. Not that her opinion mattered. I just need her financial and natural resources and the Critic's fame to get what I want out of life," thought Roxy.

"Trees being stripped of their leaves over a barren landscape," spoke the Critic as he leaned against the podium, with his shoulder on the podium's top and his finger pointing to the audience. "And let's not forget what the heinous Nazis had in mind for the environment. They planned on building gargantuan structures glorifying a state they claimed would last a thousand years. For example, this very city would have hosted a monstrous domed building called the Volkshalle. It would have been the pinnacle of Nazi architecture if it had been built over the swampy Berlin landscape, but thanks to the hubris of the Nazis, it was never constructed, thus preserving the Berlin's swamp from being runover by tons of steel and marble. Lastly, the East German government that ran much of Berlin throughout the Cold War sought to suffocate the air with their noxious factories, all in the name of uniting the workers of the world. Who cares about the workers when Mother Nature is being poisoned? To hell with humans. Nature good. Humans bad."

Those simple words fired up the crowd into a frenzy. The Critic smiled as he launched into his dream for the world.

"We shall tear down the perversions of the natural world. We shall tear down the Autobahn that has sliced through Sylvania's forests and meadows. Shame on the Germans who thought this behemoth was an excellent idea," spoke the Critic. "To minimize humanity's impact on nature, the nation of Sylvania will concentrate its population into zones of habitation, allowing the surrounding environment to recover from years of man's damage. In each of these zones of habitation, there will be communal farms where everyone will have a chance to grow food in an environmentally safe manner. I will expand on Roxy's mention of the Green Army. Yes, they are the defenders of our little blue planet. But how will you recognize them? I'll show you."

The Critic snapped his finger and two Green Army soldiers marched onto the stage. Was one a man and the other was a woman? Or were they two men or two women. Nobody could tell because the soldiers were wearing gas masks and green hazmat suits complete with long trench coats.

"As you are well aware, their primary mission is to journey into manmade disaster areas and clean up the damage done," explained the Critic. "And before you ask, yes they are carrying guns in their hands. It's to protect themselves from the humans who want nothing more than to mutilate Mother Nature. A son goes to war to defend his mother, both his biological mother and his mother country. Our Green Army needs these weapons to preserve the dignity and sanctity of Mother Nature."

The two Green Army gave a salute to Roxy as she made her way towards the Critic.

"Let's hear it for the new nation of Sylvania. No more will the nations of Germany and Italy destroy Mother Nature!" exclaimed Roxy.

"Down with the humans who intend to get in the way of our further ambitions," said the Critic referring to himself and Roxy. "And if you disagree, I'm sorry you feel that way."

It was an informal end to the Critic's speech, but going by the applause that followed, it was effective. The Critic and Roxy hugged each other and gave each other kisses on the cheeks. Thousands of miles across the Atlantic, Jennxpenn was standing in front of a flat-screen television watching the Berlin event.

"People won't stand for this. We're doing just fine in this modern age," said Jennxpenn as she was holding a pair of headphones and a mobile phone in her hand. Apparently, she saw news of what was happening in Berlin on her mobile device and just had to see the speech on a larger screen. "I just can't believe how people easily forgave Roxy Harmon after all she's done to America. What do you think, HurricaneAubrey? HurricaneAubrey?"

HurricaneAubrey was sitting on a couch with a stony expression on her face. Jennxpenn saw her stand up and turn to face the canvas she had been working on for the past few months. Her hands were clenched into a fist.

"Isn't the painting you're working on called The Generational Cycle or something? What are you doing?" asked a scared looking Jennxpenn.

Like a ferocious animal, HurricaneAubrey punched and kicked at the canvas she worked so hard on.

"Woah!" yelled Jennxpenn. "What am I seeing?!"

With the canvas rendered beyond repair, HurricaneAubrey ran out of her apartment room and into the streets of Boston. It was a rainy Earth Day.

"Wait! The Critic could just be brainwashed. Roxy could just be using some high-tech technology to seduce him to the dark side," shouted Jennxpenn.

Despite the April showers, HurricaneAubrey ran all the way to the Internet Police headquarters. She reached her office. It was a cluttered space overflowing with papers and various electrical devices. Maps of Central Europe and photographs of her sister Allison were pinned to the walls, with pieces of string connecting them to a variety of papers regarding Allison's supposed whereabouts. Not caring that she was soaking wet, HurricaneAubrey got into a fetal position in one corner of her office.

"What did the Critic whisper to me back in Japan?" said HurricaneAubrey as she laid her head on her knees.

She flashbacked to the time when she was saying goodbye to the Critic on Tokyo's Takeshita Street. Just before she would return to America in her fight against George Zazz, the Critic whispered something in her ear. It was "Life is more complex than it seems." At the time, it was a reassuring statement as it was refuting George Zazz's black and white notion of Patricians (civilized people) vs the Plebeians (the barbarians). What counts as being civilized was more than just listening to classical music or enjoying highbrow literature. These words from the Critic propelled HurricaneAubrey and others to fight against George Zazz's limited worldview during the Great Schism of America, with their victory confirming the beautiful complexity of the universe. But now the Critic's words of assurance in Japan revealed a bleaker truth. It showed that anyone can be corrupted. Why else would the Critic be hugging and kissing Roxy despite almost killing each other on Route 66? The fantasy was over. The pedestal was broken.

"The Critic could just be brainwashed," said Jennxpenn's voice in HurricaneAubrey's head.

HurricaneAubrey looked at framed photo on her desk. It was of the Critic and HurricaneAubrey painting and gluing objects to the unfinished work The Generational Cycle. HurricaneAubrey shook her head.

"I may have made peace with Jennxpenn regarding my past support for George Zazz, but I'm not willing to go that far," said HurricaneAubrey as she got up. "I don't know the exact reason why the Critic would turn to the dark side, but he did it of his own free will."

Brushing aside her wet hair that was falling in front of her eyes, HurricaneAubrey was looking at maps of Germany and Italy, using her finger to pinpoint the exact location of her sister.

"I'm going to rescue you no matter what," said HurricaneAubrey. "That's pretty much the only thing that isn't complex in this universe."

 **Please review this story to provide me some advice on improving it. What other internet personalities or memes should the Internet Police encounter?**


	9. The Grand Tour Part 1

**I do not own any of the internet personalities or memes presented in this story.**

The Internet Police: Year in Review

The Grand Tour, Part 1

TamashiiHiroka, an American Internet Police agent in training, was sent to London by Chief Horner to act as a liaison to the British Internet Police. Dressed in a white blouse accompanied with a blue suit jacket, a red ribbon tie, and a blue skirt, the agent in training's mission was to convince the British Internet Police to allocate agents and resources to fight against Roxy's Green Army. One would think the British Internet Police could afford such an expensive venture considering that the American agent was speaking to the entire British Internet Police inside a portrait gallery, with the British agents themselves wearing traditional brown school uniforms. Portraits of the greatest Britons in history were hanging from its walls, with wooden desks cluttering the floor. In truth, the gallery was the entirety of the British Internet Police's headquarter. All the administrative work, physical training exercises, and meetings took place in this one room. Even the office of the Chief was in this room, consisting of only a desk facing the gallery's stage floor. And the interim Chief of the British Internet Police was seated at the desk as he along with the other British Internet Police agents were witnessing TamashiiHiroka giving her reasons as to why the British Internet Police should send an expeditionary force to Sylvania.

"During the 17th and 18th century, well-off English youths embarked on a pilgrimage through Europe's cultural heartland. This was known as the Grand Tour. It was a coming of age ritual that would immerse the youths into Europe's artistic and historical heritage. Their journey started once they crossed the English Channel, and once they finished their trips to Paris and Rome, they would understand everything about what it means to be a European," remarked TamashiiHiroka. "I would compare the Grand Tour to a Pokémon journey."

There were many groans in the audience. Once again, TamashiiHiroka was trying to link everything to Pokémon.

"In the Pokémon world, a boy or girl who reaches the age of ten embarks on a Pokémon journey. It doesn't matter which region the boy or girl is from. The result is the same. The boy or girl goes on this 'Grand Tour' of the Pokémon world to learn everything there is to know about Pokémon. They learn to appreciate Pokémon and the world they are living in," said TamashiiHiroka.

"And what does this have to do with Roxy and her supposed crimes against humanity?" asked the interim Chief of the British Internet Police.

TamashiiHiroka looked at the interim Chief with little respect.

"Let me remind you who I am again. My name is Louis. I own a fun channel on YouTube that involves traveling to exotic locations," said the interim Chief.

"And one of those places happens to be North Korea," said TamashiiHiroka with disgust.

"Shut it. It was a fun trip with waterslides and surfing. I would rather be in North Korea than here dealing with you," said Louis.

TamashiiHiroka was quickly losing her composure as she was getting hostile stares from the audience.

"I have irrefutable evidence of Sylvania's crimes against humanity," said TamashiiHiroka as she turned on her laptop and began searching for files on Sylvania's misdeeds.

"Isn't that the whole point of Sylvania's existence. Answering for humanity's crimes against nature," said Louis.

"You'll change your minds once you take a look at these photographs," said TamashiiHiroka.

The audience leaned forward on their wooden desks. What horrors were they about to witness? After all, Roxy was known as George Zazz's rottweiler during the Great Schism of America.

On a large screen, TamashiiHiroka's laptop showed various satellite photographs. They were of Sylvania's nature preserves.

"What am I looking at?" said Louis dismissively. "Looks like Sylvania is doing a good job protecting Mother Nature."

"Look closer," said TamashiiHiroka as she zoomed in on the photographs. "Why are there helicopters and tanks near Neuschwanstein Castle? I don't think the people operating them are there for a weekend excursion."

"Probably fakes," said Louis. "Satellites can be hacked, and I'll bet this photo is a phony. Just like your reputation."

The crowd started giggling. TamashiiHiroka looked on with anger at how they were treating the Sylvanian Threat as a joke.

"I'll show you more evidence," said TamashiiHiroka as she uploaded the next photo. "This is Venice, Italy. You can see soldiers vandalizing the City of Canals, hauling away priceless artifacts."

"So what? They could just be Green Army soldiers returning Venice back to its natural state. Why is this a problem again?" asked Louis.

"My point is that Roxy is dismantling the cultural treasures of Germany and Italy," said TamashiiHiroka.

"And why should we sacrifice our men and women to save some German castle and some Italian ditches?" asked Louis.

"Because European heritage is being threatened by the Green Army," said TamashiiHiroka with desperation. "Like the Pokemon trainers who gained enlightenment from traveling their Pokemon regions, these German and Italian treasures gave Europeans a chance to appreciate their place in the world. Future Europeans will be deprived of their history."

"I'm confused," said Louis. "Why should we care about this? Why should short-lived human artifacts take precedence over the eternal wonders of the natural world?"

TamashiiHiroka herself didn't know what she was saying. There were more disapproving murmurs from the crowd. Feeling dejected, TamashiiHiroka searched through more of the photographs for convincing evidence. She skipped over the satellite images that had artwork being plundered from Florence's Uffizi Museum and Berlin's Pergamon Museum. She needed images that had only Green Army soldiers committing acts against humanity. Much to her relief, there was one example that contained only Green Army soldiers in a less than ideal setting.

"Feast your eyes on this," said TamashiiHiroka.

An image came up which showed a Sylvanian zone of habitation. It was a heavily congested tent city in the middle of nowhere. Nearby was what appeared to be a recreation of a Roman town. From above, there appeared to be Roman soldiers lining up a group of what seems to be Germanic barbarians, with the latter dressed in dirty rags.

"This isn't the only image of the zone of habitation the satellite took," explained TamashiiHiroka. "The satellite took several images in quick succession. Watch what happens."

Playing the compilation of satellite photos as if the figures in the pictures were a part of a stop-motion animated film, TamashiiHiroka revealed what the Roman soldiers were doing to the German barbarians: whipping and stomping the primitives. A collective gasp filled the room.

"Now are you convinced?!" spoke TamashiiHiroka.

"No," said Louis.

"No?" said a stunned TamashiiHiroka.

"Take a closer look at the photos. What do you see just beyond the trees?" said Louis.

TamashiiHiroka took another look at the photos. She saw a camera crew just beyond the trees.

"They're probably filming the torture scenes to be broadcasted on their local channels as a warning to all traitors," insisted TamashiiHiroka.

"Look again," said an unimpressed Louis. "Look at the tents closest to the prisoners."

TamashiiHiroka gazed upon the tents. The top of the tents had the words "Cinema Awesome".

"In case you're too dumb to understand, this is a film production, and the Roman soldiers and German barbarians are just actors. And the Roman town is a film set," explained Louis.

"But… but…" stuttered TamashiiHiroka as she gazed upon the overview of what Louis described as a film set.

Louis saw the demoralized look on TamashiiHiroka's face. He had little pity for her.

"You come all the way to London from America, and this is the best you could come up with," said Louis in a mocking tone.

The audience laughed along with Louis at the expense of TamashiiHiroka's credibility. She needed to come up with a plan to restore her standing as an Internet Police agent. A spark of inspiration came to her.

"How about we send someone to visit Sylvania itself? We'll be able to get a view of Roxy's evil empire at the ground-level, capturing its vileness by sight, smell, touch, sound, and taste," suggested TamashiiHiroka.

"Good idea," said Louis.

"You're seriously?" said a delightfully surprised TamashiiHiroka.

"I'm serious," said Louis. "We'll send someone to tour Sylvania and gather evidence of Roxy's alleged wrongdoings."

"Thank you," said TamashiiHiroka.

"And is that all you wanted to ask of us," said Louis.

"It would be good start," stated TamashiiHiroka.

"Then we have no more to discuss with you," said Louis. "I'll take up your offer."

"Once again I thank you," said TamashiiHiroka as some members of the British Internet Police began to go back to their administrative duties at their respective desks.

"Don't mention it," said Louis.

"Things are looking up right now," thought TamashiiHiroka as she began packing her laptop back into her suitcase.

TamashiiHiroka's mission was to convince the British Internet Police to liberate German and Italian cities from Roxy. She failed.

"How could this happen?" thought TamashiiHiroka as she was standing in the middle of Piccadilly Circus on a rainy day, not caring that she was being soaked.

TamashiiHiroka got onto her mobile phone and started ordering Chunnel tickets to Paris.

"Hopefully, the French Internet Police will be more inclined to send an expeditionary force to Sylvania," said TamashiiHiroka with pessimism as she began walking through the streets of London, not bothering to open her Pokémon umbrella.

TamashiiHiroka walked past Londoners. With some guilt, she had hoped to see worried faces on these Londoners, a sign that they took the threat of Roxy's takeover of German and Italian cities seriously. Instead, she saw only Londoners going about their daily routines without a care in the world.

"It's going to be a while before the next train to Paris," thought TamashiiHiroka sadly.

With hours to spare in London, TamashiiHiroka retreated to the London Eye. After paying extra for a capsule all to herself, she boarded the massive Ferris wheel as rain was pouring heavily from the grey clouds above London. As the May showers continued drenching the London Eye and threatening to flood the Thames River, TamashiiHiroka sat on the floor of the capsule she was in as she recalled what Louis found out in Sylvania that ruined her credibility in the eyes of the British Internet Police. She held her hands to her head as she recounted Louis' verbal evisceration of her.

"How dare you?! You immature little girl?!" shouted Louis in her head. "Roxy is a good friend of mine now. And for you to continue your childish rage against her infuriates me to no end."

"But you have got to believe me!" shouted the past-self of TamashiiHiroka in her head. "She's a butcher and will stop at no end to sink Europe into a new Dark Age."

"Ridiculous," scoffed Louis. "I traveled throughout all of Sylvania accompanied by Roxy's bodyguards to all the sights in the new nation. What I saw indicated the dawn of Mother Nature's renewal from the corruption of man. As a matter of fact, you can view my entire trip to Sylvania on my main online channel, and you can even see my music video collaboration with Roxy herself."

"What?" spoke a crestfallen TamashiiHiroka.

"Don't believe me? Here, I'll show you," said Louis.

Louis got up to plug his laptop into the enormous television screen. All the British Internet Police agents and TamashiiHiroka witnessed the first pop music video to come out of Sylvania. It was called Rappin' in Sylvania. Many British Internet Police agents were waving their arms in the air as they were moving to the beat of Rappin' in Sylvania. TamashiiHiroka was horrified when she saw footage of Louis rapping alongside Roxy throughout the German and Italian cities occupied by the Green Army. They were rapping quotes like "making history" and "we are the world." It was sickening to TamashiiHiroka that Louis was such good friends with Roxy that he would make a music video with her. After seeing several clips of cheerful Sylvanians waving at the camera and surfing in the bright sunlight, TamashiiHiroka decided that her mission was a lost cause. Dejected, she made her way out of the British Internet Police headquarters.

"Bye, Felicia," said Louis as TamashiiHiroka angrily left the room.

Getting back to her isolation inside the London Eye's capsule, TamashiiHiroka thought about her purpose as an Internet Police agent.

"I can still hear the laughter from those British agents," whispered TamashiiHiroka as she sat on the floor while the rain was beating on the capsule's windows.

TamashiiHiroka got back up onto her feet to look at her mobile phone. On her phone she saw a flurry of messages coming from several people she didn't personally know.

"Hey, Felicia. Still playing Pokémon on your phone. Stop wasting time and go help Roxy," said the message.

"Is this Felicia? Sorry, I must have gotten the wrong number. I was looking for someone who didn't suck humanity's dick. Mother Nature for the win!" said another message.

Trying her best not to feel nauseated, TamashiiHiroka continued down the rabbit hole of messages that were continually popping up.

"Listen, Felicia. You and your imaginary Pokémon friends are the past. Roxy is the future. Get with the times," said another message.

"What kind of insults are these?" remarked TamashiiHiroka. "They must be trolls with nothing better to do with their lives."

Unfortunately, the source of these trolls would disturb TamashiiHiroka to no end.

"Felicia. Are you hiding from us after Louis' heroic defense of Roxy? That's unbecoming of an Internet Police agent. How about you quit being an agent and go back to playing Pokémon in your playpen?" said another message.

"These are from the British Internet Police agents?!" said a shocked TamashiiHiroka. "Unbelievable"

TamashiiHiroka slumped back down onto the floor, with the phone dropping out of her hand.

"I'm unworthy of being an Internet Police agent," said TamashiiHiroka as she tried ignoring the endless stream of negative messages from her phone. "All I wanted was to absolve myself of any guilt I had for not actively participating in fighting against Roxy and her buddies during the Great Schism of America. My goal of becoming an Internet Police agent started in Venice, California, and my employment at the Institute of Internet Studies was a stepping stone to becoming an agent. Maybe I'm not cut out for this harsh world."

She thought back to her days as an Institute of Internet Studies scientist. TamashiiHiroka was a leading expert on everything Pokémon related, and she was fascinated by how Pokémon captured the imagination of the whole world for generations. Maybe it was the appeal of going out on an epic quest around the world, an adventure that could be experienced with a portable device known as a GameBoy.

"Maybe going back to be an Institute researcher wouldn't be so bad," said TamashiiHiroka.

But then she recalled the negative publicity she received from the British Internet Police and how they would undoubtedly continue to bash her during her return to America. They would probably publish false claims about her fragile mental state and her child-like behavior due to her peculiar interest in Pokémon. She shivered at how far these British agents would go in destroying her completely for the sake of protecting their new ally Roxy Harmon. At best, she would be sent to a mental institute where her Pokémon obsession wouldn't harm anyone. At worst, she would be executed by Sylvanian sympathizers in America for daring to defy the will of Roxy.

"Why didn't I consider the consequences of failing?" thought TamashiiHiroka as she placed her hands over the shaking head.

She was breathing heavily as her heartbeats became more frequent. She needed to calm down. It would be her childhood that would be her savior. It would be Pokémon.

"People may think of Pokémon as a cheesy Japanese cartoon catering only to children, and that's fine. But to me, Pokémon was my lifeline during my turbulent teenage and young adult years. I was a struggling student who couldn't function in a hyper-competitive world, and my house was a war zone," said TamashiiHiroka with a sad smile. "To cope with a cruel world, I turned to Pokémon. I didn't think of them as bits of data or disposable creatures but as my friends."

She shed a tear that she promptly wiped away with a dash of her finger.

"They were always there when things became tough, and during my teenage years, these times were often. And my Pokémon friends didn't care about my insecurities or my tumultuous life. They just saw me as a friend. And Pokémon taught me life lessons like compassion, patience, and empathy, and I took these lessons to heart when I made friends in the real world and built a career on YouTube," spoke TamashiiHiroka. "But through my newfound success, I never forgot my Pokémon friends who made it all possible since the time Meowth taught me how to read. And they comforted me when I was on the run during the Great Schism of America when Frank and Roxy were massacring Americans in towns big and small. After my fiasco with the British Internet Police, I need them now more than ever."

TamashiiHiroka saw small beams of light piercing through the cloudy London sky. After being inundated with messages on her phone condemning her, she felt a glimmer of hope in her body. Maybe there was a place for her in the world after all. With her fond memories of Pokémon soothing her chaotic mind, TamashiiHiroka picked up her phone and gazed upon it. She was optimistic that there would be one message that wouldn't be critical of her. Fortunately, she saw one that was calling out to her as a friend.

"Look at the capsule next to you," said the message.

TamashiiHiroka turned her head to face the capsule on her right as she faced the Thames River. It was empty.

"The other way," said the sympathetic message. "And let's continue our conversation on a private line."

She looked to the capsule left of her. It was an Asian man wearing a brown coat, a white undershirt, brown trousers, and a tie with red and brown stripes.

"He must be an Internet Police agent," said TamashiiHiroka. "A male British Internet Police agent to be exact. The female British agents wear brown coats, a white undershirt, a red and brown skirt, and bowties of various colors. What's his name?"

TamashiiHiroka looked down at the sympathetic message and saw that the person who wrote it went by the online name Gigguk.

"Hello," typed TamashiiHiroka on her phone in responding back to this Gigguk man, this time on a private channel. "I can't talk to you verbally since we're on different capsules. This is the only form of communication for the time being."

A more cynical TamashiiHiroka would have expected Gigguk to reply with the words "Thank you Captain Obvious." Thankfully, Gigguk said a simple "That's fine" before moving on to the real reason he was here.

"I was sent by my fellow British Internet Police agents to stalk you and humiliate you even further. They gave me various posters designed to chastise you, and they instructed me to show you them just before you left London. Some of the posters displayed you and the Angry Video Game Nerd acting like cavemen in the basement and another showed you crushing puppies in a garbage compactor," wrote Gigguk.

TamashiiHiroka had her gasping mouth covered by her hand. But she felt relief as Gigguk was tearing up the posters within his capsule.

"I had to pretend to go along with their low opinion of you. It was the only way of locating you. I pretended to abandon my misgivings about Roxy after my failed diplomatic mission in Australia," wrote Gigguk.

"You were in Australia?" wrote TamashiiHiroka.

"Doing the same thing you were doing in the United Kingdom," wrote Gigguk. "By the way, did you see me during your presentation to the entire British Internet Police?"

"No," wrote TamashiiHiroka. "I didn't know who you were."

"Getting back on point, I was in Sydney, Australia, presenting evidence on the Sylvanian Threat. I asked for their help. They refused," wrote Gigguk.

"Why?" wrote TamashiiHiroka.

"Geography," wrote Gigguk. "The Australian agents argued that Australia was so far away from Roxy's holdings in Europe that the Sylvanian Threat was of no concern to them. And that's why they rejected my call, stating that Europe's mess was not theirs to confront."

"But at least you tried," wrote TamashiiHiroka. "Better than I have as you clearly saw."

Gigguk saw the disappointed look on TamashiiHiroka's face. Sighing, Gigguk rubbed his fingers over his forehead.

"I wouldn't say that your attempt of convincing the British Internet Police agent was horrible, but I would say that it needs more work," wrote Gigguk.

"What did I do wrong?" wrote TamashiiHiroka.

"I think you could have provided better evidence regarding the Sylvanian Threat. I overheard Louis saying that the photos were probably faked, with the satellites being hacked by the Russians. Perhaps a massive supply of photographs and videos could have been more credible to the British Internet Police rather than just the few you provided," wrote Gigguk.

"Anything else?" wrote TamashiiHiroka.

"You said that Roxy Harmon was a threat to the world, and yet, you provided a barebones description of how malicious she is. I would have brought in a witness with firsthand accounts of Roxy's brutality. I would have this person testify in front of the entire British Internet Police regarding the atrocities Roxy committed during the Great Schism of America," wrote Gigguk.

"I really messed up didn't I," wrote TamashiiHiroka.

"Don't feel too bad," wrote Gigguk. "I myself couldn't convince the Australian Internet Police to join us. So, we're all in the same boat with few friends to fight with us against the nation of Sylvania."

"Better to have one friend than no friends," wrote TamashiiHiroka. "Although memories of my Pokémon friends provided me with comfort before I met you."

TamashiiHiroka sent the message without pause. Realizing what she just sent, she blushed with embarrassment.

"He's going to think the wrong ideas about me, particularly of what type of relationship I had with my Pokémon friends," said TamashiiHiroka with shame.

"I know what you mean by your Pokémon friends. I'm not getting the wrong ideas. I know about your Pokémon obsession from the countless Pokémon videos you made on YouTube," wrote Gigguk, much to TamashiiHiroka's relief.

"You follow me on YouTube," wrote TamashiiHiroka. "I'm flattered."

"Whenever I'm in a nostalgic mood, I tune in to your channel for anything Pokémon related. I grew up with Pokémon like so many other children, and indeed, Pokémon was one of my first introduction into the world of Japanese anime," wrote Gigguk. "You see, it was because of Pokémon that I became a YouTuber specializing in the world of anime, from reviews of individual animes to the cultural impact of anime on society."

"You're an anime YouTuber?" wrote TamashiiHiroka.

"Yep," wrote Gigguk. "Anything wrong with that?"

"Not really," wrote TamashiiHiroka. "But to tell you the truth, I'm not really an anime fan. I was once upon a time, but those days are long over."

"That's a shame," wrote Gigguk. "Is it because of how repetitive the Pokémon anime has become these days? Or because Ash is still 10 years old through the magic of men in suits wanting to print money?"

TamashiiHiroka giggled.

"It's more along the lines of western society having a low opinion of anime and those who enjoy it," wrote TamashiiHiroka. "You saw how your co-workers mocked me for liking Pokémon, and the Pokémon anime is probably the safest anime any normal person can get into. Imagine how they would react if I got into any hardcore animes. From what I gathered, animes these days push a lot of boundaries regarding sexuality, violence, and social commentary. If you admit to liking anime in any public forum within the western world, you'll be outed as someone who has trash taste."

"Well if anime is trash, then so am I," wrote Gigguk. "In fact, I must be a bloody landfill considering how much I talk about anime on my channel. I think you're missing out on the diverse and multicomplex world of anime. How about you give anime another chance?"

"I don't know. Some of the animes I watched as a child hasn't aged well now that I'm an adult," wrote TamashiiHiroka.

"How about I show you some critically acclaimed animes during our mission to convince the French Internet Police of the Sylvanian Threat?" wrote Gigguk.

"Our mission? You're coming with me to Paris?" wrote TamashiiHiroka.

"Is that okay with you?" wrote Gigguk.

The grey clouds were moving quickly away from London. The sun was shining brightly on the capital of the United Kingdom, bathing the city in orange and blue colors as it was descending over the horizon. With the sun setting, TamashiiHiroka thought about how she was all alone in London before meeting Gigguk. She had been trekking through the flooded streets of London without opening her umbrella. Now, she opened her Pokémon umbrella, displaying to all of London her affection for the franchise from the top of the London Eye.

"It's okay with me," wrote TamashiiHiroka with a smile on her face.

"Great," wrote Gigguk. "Now which animes should I show you on our trip to Paris? Attack on Titan? Or Steins;Gate?"

After being devastated by the Great Schism of America, Los Angeles was quickly rebuilt to its original form. Life was back to normal just as it had been before the Great Schism of America. But for many, the psychological damage was permanent. Many Angelenos resented how much the Institute of Internet Studies as headed by George Zazz destroyed their city. Unsurprisingly, the Institute's reputation was in shambles even with a new Administrator in charge. Administrator Forest Gibson was going to restore the Institute's standing as a peaceful organization dedicated to public education and the pursuit of knowledge. His plan was automation. More specifically, automated tour vehicles. To Administrator Gibson's knowledge, every company in Silicon Valley was investing in self-driving vehicles, and he knew that pursuing this venture would prove to the world that the Institute of Internet Studies was a paragon of innovation and progress. With tourism being a huge global industry, Administrator Gibson was inspired to implement self-driving tour vehicles in the world's greatest tourist spots. Inside what appeared to be a command center, Administrator Gibson was boasting about the potential opportunities automated tour vehicles could provide.

"These two automated cars are being tested with live passengers for the first time," said Administrator Gibson as he leaned against an observation railing. "Kristina, we are witnessing history in the making. We'll start by having automated tour vehicles give visitors a taste of Los Angeles. With the press deeming the L.A. tours a success, we'll expand our operations to the alpha cities of London and Paris. Soon, we'll have automated tour vehicles driving up to the Great Pyramids of Giza. What do you think Kristina?"

Chief Kristina Horner wasn't paying attention to the large screens displaying the insides of the tour vehicles, which were blue and black Ford Explorers. One screen showed a Ford Explorer approaching the Venice neighborhood, with its occupants being HurricaneAubrey, Jennxpenn, and an internet personality named Cody from AlternateHistoryHub. The other Ford Explorer was ridden by the Angry Video Game Nerd and two VCR repairmen named Mike and Jay, with their vehicle nearing the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

"Kristina?" asked Administrator Gibson again.

Chief Horner simply carried on with placing her fisted hand beneath her chin in deep thought, unaware that Administrator Gibson was trying to get her attention.

"Maybe she wants a detailed description of the tour vehicles?" thought Administrator Gibson.

Reaching for a model of a tour vehicle that was positioned above a computer monitor, Administrator Gibson went into a detailed description of the tour vehicle's features.

"Behold the Institute Explorers!" proclaimed Administrator Gibson. "These vehicles have state of the art sensors planted throughout its surface to facilitate the car's self-driving abilities. An onboard advanced computer can utilize these sensors to identify traffic lights, pedestrians, and the appropriate tourist spots to broadcast relevant information to the Explorer's occupants via a surround sound system. Trusting in the reliability of the Explorer's navigation skills and its outer shell durability to withstand a rampaging rhino, the tourists inside are free to enjoy the comforts of luxury with comfortable leather seating, a mini-refrigerator containing water and other refreshments, a medical kit for dealing with emergencies, and a computer monitor that the visitors can interact with to find out more about the city they are visiting. It's a beauty to behold."

Administrator Gibson continued with how future Institute Explorers might include amphibious vehicles that could travel the waters of the Nile, the Danube, and the Mekong Rivers. But Chief Horner wasn't paying attention.

"I have an important call to make," said Chief Horner.

"Okay," said Administrator Gibson, a little disappointed that his old colleague was looking disillusioned right now.

Chief Horner hurried out of the control room, finding herself inside a narrow hallway. With no one passing through right now, Chief Horner could make a call to reality.

"Currently, TamashiiHiroka has failed in her mission to convince the British Internet Police of the seriousness of the Sylvanian Threat. They all treat Roxy as an ally," spoke Chief Horner as she folded her arms in deep contemplation. "Well not all of them. TamashiiHiroka has one British Internet Police agent supporting her all the way to Paris. Maybe she and this agent will have greater success convincing the French Internet Police to help us deal with the Sylvanian Threat. I was quite disappointed by how the British Internet Police wants to make peace with Roxy Harmon considering what she did in this very city I am standing in."

She thought about the Plebeian massacre at the Getty Center, of which Roxy spearheaded along with her now dead partner Frank Murdoch.

"Are the British Internet Police agents so close to Roxy that they are willing to dance to an atrocious music video or is there something more than meets the eye?" thought Chief Horner. "Maybe they are doing so out of fear?"

Once more, she recalled how Roxy conducted killing sprees in the later stages of the Great Schism of America.

"One cannot easily forgive such a transgression without hard evidence. And I don't think Louis' government-operated tours conveyed much confidence in Roxy's intentions for a better world," said Chief Horner. "I think the agents are afraid of Roxy. Fear is a rational response when dealing with a girl like her. I wonder what these agents think about the Nostalgia Critic being a friend of Roxy's?"

Speaking of the Critic, Chief Horner was at a loss for words when she first heard about the Critic's betrayal. Why would he do such a thing? Internally, she was trying to find the exact reasons for his treasonous act. There were many who blamed her for not giving the Critic enough credit for his role in bringing down George Zazz, and as such, the Critic turned to his former nemesis for attention and support. Chief Horner didn't believe this was the reason.

"Perhaps the Critic is working as a double agent, gathering information about Roxy and planning her downfall from the inside," said Chief Horner. "I believe that he is intelligent enough to pull off such a scheme. When all is said and done, he will spring his trap and allow the Internet Police to bring Roxy to justice. How he will accomplish this will be seen in the next few weeks? I think Jennxpenn's hypothesis that Roxy used a high-tech machine to brainwash the Critic is preposterous."

"Everything okay, Kristina?" asked Administrator Gibson.

Chief Horner gazed upon Administrator Gibson as he was poking his body through the hallway's door. She hastily took out her mobile phone.

"I'm still preoccupied right now," said Chief Horner.

"Being a Chief of the Internet Police does involve a lot of responsibilities," said Administrator Gibson in an understanding tone as he left Chief Horner alone.

On her mobile phone, Chief Horner saw countless news clips praising Roxy as a savior of the environment, and the Critic as a charitable man whose generosity has only increased due to his allegiance to Roxy. Apparently, Roxy was a darling in the eyes of the mainstream media for being a woman of action with a large internet following.

"We need someone to counteract Roxy's popularity with the mainstream media. A female internet personality with many followers and whose videos are hip with the masses," said Chief Horner.

Chief Horner paced back and forth for a few seconds before coming up with a solution.

"I'm going to promote Jennxpenn from Internet Police agent to Supreme Commander of an anti-Sylvanian organization called the Innovation Alliance," stated Chief Horner as she headed back into the control room.

Jennxpenn was raiding the mini-refrigerator on Institute Explorer 04, with the vehicle stopping at the Venice neighborhood with its small collection of canals. With the entire backseat all to herself, she had been drinking cans of soda in quick succession, dropping the empty cans onto the car's floor even though the car was equipped with a small trash container. She moved on to drinking an entire bottle of Napa Valley wine along with a humungous cheeseburger, with ketchup packs and other condiment items being tossed onto the floor. Jennxpenn's Internet Police uniform was stained while HurricaneAubrey's uniform kept its immaculate appearance. As for Cody from AlternateHistoryHub, he was wearing a black leather jacket, a black shirt, black pants, black sunglasses, black socks, and black sneakers. Cody and HurricaneAubrey were in the driver's seat and the front passenger seat respectively as they snuck glances at Jennxpenn's consumption practices, with them resembling parents who didn't know what to think of their kid's habit of staining the car's luxurious upholstery. Still, it was better than having to watch and listen to the commercials playing on the car's computer monitors.

"I love our modern world. So many conveniences," said Jennxpenn as she stuffed the rest of the cheeseburger into her mouth before finishing the rest of her wine bottle.

HurricaneAubrey and Cody looked awkwardly at each other as they ignored the movie advertisements being played. In order to secure funding for the L.A. tourist trips, the Institute of Internet Studies was forced to get sponsorship from Hollywood film companies, with one of the conditions being that ads for the latest Hollywood movies needed to be played throughout the L.A. tours. An ad was being played for a remake of the classic film Honey, I Shrunk the Kids.

"This looks good," said Jennxpenn as she saw footage of a group of shrunken-down high-schoolers trying to survive being squashed by their gigantic teachers and friends.

"It doesn't have the charm of the original," thought HurricaneAubrey, with the original film being one of her childhood favorites.

"The effects look kind of off," whispered Cody to HurricaneAubrey. He then turned to face the live camera behind him. "Can we get moving now? I believe that we're here for the L.A. tour, not to feed into Hollywood's ego."

Cody stood halfway up as he was knocking on the camera's screen while breathing heavily on it. He was trying to convince the control room to get the tour moving again. Back in the control room, Administrator Gibson didn't know what to think as he saw Cody continuing to knock and breath on the camera.

"Hello? Anyone there?" asked Cody to the crew in the control room.

"I really hate that man's hypocrisy," said Administrator Gibson as he saw Cody from AlternateHistoryHub returning to his seat.

There was next an advertisement for a live-action remake of Toy Story.

"This looks amazing," said Jennxpenn, though with less conviction in her voice.

Cody and HurricaneAubrey didn't know what to think of the uncanny valley of the toys rendered into a real-world set. They thought it would be best to avoid looking at the screen.

"Can we get moving now?!" said an annoyed HurricaneAubrey.

Unfortunately, there were still more ads to go as they were witnessing movie commercials that spoiled the entire movie, with a remake of Citizen Kane being announced.

"This looks boring," said Jennxpenn.

After the last of the movie trailers concluded, Institute Explorer 04 began moving again.

"As stated by the tour guide on the computer, Los Angeles' Venice neighborhood was a failed project intended to replicate the romance of Venice, Italy," said Cody. "Just think of how different Los Angeles' reputation would be if Venice had been fully realized in southern California. Of course, it was an ambitious dream doomed to failure because the automobile supplanted the desire for slow-moving gondolas. It reminds me of Atlantropa."

"Atlantropa?" questioned HurricaneAubrey.

"Atlantropa. It was German architect Herman Sörgel's dream of eliminating the Mediterranean Sea as a means of expanding Europe's farmland and provide an abundance of hydroelectric energy to the continent," said Cody. "It was his vision to remove all the water from the Mediterranean, but interestingly, he wanted to preserve the city of Venice, Italy. He believed that Venice needed the sea to survive for cultural and tourism purposes, and thus, he would make an exception of his land reclamation plans by providing Venice a dam that would sustain the city's access to water. This source of water would be the only remnant of the Mediterranean left in the region."

"Fascinating," said HurricaneAubrey as Jennxpenn looked on with disinterest. "And what would happen if Sörgel's vision was achieved?"

"What do you think would have happened?" questioned Cody, curious to see what HurricaneAubrey's response would be.

"I would imagine it would be like land reclamation projects in the Netherlands and other low-lying regions. Humans expanding their terrestrial holdings against the raw power of the seas, constructing the framework of basic civilization on their newly acquired territory," said HurricaneAubrey. "But something like Atlantropa, that is an entirely different story. For one, who knows how drastically different the environment would be if an entire sea like the Mediterranean was relocated?"

"Sörgel intended to transport the water to central Africa," said Cody.

"That amount of water being dumped onto central Africa… it would be earth-shattering for the animals and people living there," said HurricaneAubrey. "Let's not forget what would happen to the southern Europeans who relied on the Mediterranean to survive. It's not just Venice that needed the Mediterranean. What about the countries of France, Spain, Italy, Greece, and other European states that relied on the Mediterranean for commercial and sentimental value?"

"I see that you didn't just say that Atlantropa was an excellent idea that would propel Europe into the future. I'm quite pleased by your assessment," said Cody.

"You should think before you leap," said HurricaneAubrey. "But really, what would have happened if Atlantropa became a reality?"

"I outlined the consequences in a new fictional book I wrote, but to summarize, the land reclaimed by the Atlantropa project wouldn't be fertile at all. Instead, an enormous salt flat would replace the Mediterranean Sea, resulting in the Sahara expanding into southern Europe. Instead of being the savior of Europe, Atlantropa would doom Europe as millions of southern Europeans would flee their barren wastelands into northern Europe and the Americas. I suspect that many would also escape into central Africa where the remains of the Mediterranean Sea would be available to them," said Cody.

"And what would happen to the Africans already living there?" asked HurricaneAubrey.

"I think you already know the answer to this. But I'll give you a hint. Sörgel conceived the Atlantropa project in the 1920s," said Cody.

HurricaneAubrey understood what would have happened if Atlantropa forced Europeans to escape into central Africa. Jennxpenn, who stopped eating another round of cheeseburgers, shared her thoughts on the matter.

"Glad that I'm better than this Sörgel guy," said Jennxpenn. "He thought that being a racist man with a big ego would result in a utopia. No thanks. He and his other European contemporaries pretty much ruined Africa. Imagine how much better Africa would be if the Europeans just left it alone. I know I would have since I'm not a conniving, evil imperialist."

"You want to know what if Africa wasn't colonized by the Europeans?" asked Cody.

"Yes," said Jennxpenn. "I may get bored of history, but I want to see if I could have done a better job than these European losers."

"Very well," said Cody. "If you don't know by now, I specialize in the study of alternative history. History can be summed up as a series of events occurring on the river of time. People who study alternate history analyze theoretical rivers of time running parallel to our own. The existence of these alternative timelines is due to points of divergences."

"You lost me," said Jennxpenn.

"Simply put, the point of divergence you are asking about involves Europeans not colonizing Africa. How about we say that you are the point of divergence that convinces Europeans to leave Africa alone?" said Cody.

"Me? I like the sound of that," said Jennxpenn.

"Let's say you are a late 19th century European woman who everyone will listen to. The scramble for African colonies never happens because of a woman named Jennxpenn convinced the Europeans not to conquer Africa," said Cody.

"So, I basically saved Africa," said Jennxpenn. "Yay for me! Everything is now sunshine and rainbows in Africa."

"Not so fast. You may have stopped the Europeans from conquering Africa, but you haven't prevented a cycle of violence and underdevelopment on the continent," said Cody. "The Africans may be in control of their own destiny, but they still would have fought against each other for territory and resources. To put it bluntly, humans are naturally brutal, and your interference in the timeline hasn't changed that fact."

Jennxpenn folded her arms in frustration, upset with how she wasn't as omnipotent as she thought she was. Institute Explorer 04 was speeding past cars and dodging any potential pedestrians crossing the street. With faith in the Explorer's driving capabilities, Cody decided to give the two ladies a preview of his next book.

"I've been researching other alternative timelines, and the one I find most intriguing is a timeline where Germany wins World War One," began Cody. "We all know about the darkest timeline where Nazi Germany wins World War Two. Their plans for Lebensraum and their grand design for world domination. So many books, tv shows, movies, and online videos have discussed a world where the Nazis defeat the Allies that it has become a cliché. In contrast, not many people have considered a timeline where the Germans wins World War One, and that's what my planned book Pax Germania will cover."

"Let me guess, the Germans are evil and try to take over the world, massacring anyone who isn't a white European," said Jennxpenn.

"That's a common misconception. The Germans weren't the bad guys of World War One. There weren't any Nazis from 1914-1918. In my book, the Germans are humans just like you and me," said Cody.

Jennxpenn felt like she wasn't contributing anything to the conversation. As a result, she went back to munching on the refrigerator's food.

"I am an aspiring artist, and as a connoisseur of great art, I have come across several instances of 19th century German paintings portraying a desire for a united Germany, where all German families could raise beautiful German boys and girls in a fairytale setting," said HurricaneAubrey. "I believe that it was romantic paintings and music by composers like Beethoven that drove Germans to unite their country in 1871 after defeating the French in the Franco-Prussian War. It was France's desire for revenge and Germany's smugness about their victory in the Franco-Prussian War that was one of many factors that led to the First World War."

"Exactly, and in our timeline, I believe that Germany lost World War One the moment that they invaded Belgium, whose neutrality was guaranteed by the mighty British Empire. The Germans had hoped to knock the French out of the war by invading through neutral Belgium. Using Belgium as a grand highway for their troops, the Germans would capture Paris and force the French to capitulate quickly. With France neutralized, the Germans could swing their western forces eastward to face the antiquated Russian forces allied with the French. At least, that was the plan if the British, who stood by their agreement of protecting Belgium, hadn't decided to declare war on the Germans, thus ruining the Germans' strategy of seizing Paris," explained Cody.

"I remember how World War One propaganda posters encouraged young men to enlist to fight for the glory of the empire and their fatherland. It would be a romantic affair that would be over by Christmas," spoke HurricaneAubrey softly. "It was not to be with the reality of trench warfare. Men being killed wholesale in exchange for mere yards of dirt into enemy territory. It affected an entire generation, with the surviving soldiers coming home not in glorious triumph but more of a muted joy of simply being alive. I saw how the photographs and the paintings during the Great War illustrated the absolute horror of modern war with no filters. One painting was John Singer Sargent's Gassed depicting a row of bandaged Allied soldiers suffering the effects of mustard gas."

HurricaneAubrey took out her phone and showed a picture of the painting to Cody. He saw the oil painting with its haunting portrayal of soldiers blinded by the mustard gas attack, with biplanes conducting dogfights in the hazy sky. Cody paused to gather his thoughts before continuing.

"I imagine that an early end to World War One might have reduced the suffering. In Pax Germania, three generations of the same German family are depicted throughout the 20th century. The first generation has a young German soldier serving in the Great War. Since this is an alternative timeline, he sees the Great War reaching a rapid conclusion due to the German High Command choosing to invade through the French-German border of Alsace-Lorraine instead of Belgium. By not invoking the wrath of the British Empire, the Germans are able to quickly occupy Paris and force a French surrender. With the western front won, the Germans mobilize their troops eastward to defeat the Russians," explained Cody. "The German Empire wins the Great War, and the Pax Germania begins with the second generation of the German family reaping the benefits. In our timeline, the 20th century is widely considered the American Century. But in the timeline of Pax Germania, the 20th century is known as the German Century.

Institute Explorer 04 was self-driving through a neighborhood of containing several McDonald's stores, each with a large sign advertising that billions and billions of burgers and fries were sold worldwide. The neighborhood also had large electronic billboards advertising the latest Hollywood movies to a global audience, with superhero movies being a popular subject.

"Pax Americana," said HurricaneAubrey. "Pax Germania."

"Pax Germania. A world where Germany culture would dominate the 20th century. Eastern Europe would fall under Germany's sphere of influence. The Germans would annex large parts of central Africa from the British and French. And Imperial Germany could have been the first to split the atom and landed on the moon since they possessed the intellectual freedom that the Nazis lacked," said Cody.

"Sounds like hell on earth to me," thought Jennxpenn.

"I should emphasize that Imperial Germany didn't want to exterminate the eastern Europeans. Only to dominate them. Therefore, a large Jewish population would still exist in eastern Europe as Imperial Germany wasn't so keen on mass genocide," said Cody. "Without the trauma of losing the Great War, Germany wouldn't be receptive to the ideas of fascism, with Nazi Germany being a fantastical dream in this reality."

"Sounds like paradise on earth to me," said HurricaneAubrey. "Just think of the suffering that could have been averted without the Nazis to ruin everything. And that includes their architectural failures. I'll show you."

HurricaneAubrey looked up some fascist German architecture on her phone. She showed them to Cody. Much to her surprise, Jennxpenn decided to look as well.

"They look absolutely gross," said Jennxpenn. She saw the gargantuan fascist buildings of Nazi Germany. "What is that weird looking building that's like the U.S. Capitol Building's obese uncle?"

"That's the Volkshalle," explained HurricaneAubrey. "It was to be the centerpiece of Germania, the Nazi capital constructed to replace the decadent capital city of Berlin. Volkshalle was to function as a temple to German fascism, not dissimilar to how Rome's Pantheon was dedicated to the Roman gods. They say that Volkshalle's dome was so massive that it would have its own weather, with the breaths from thousands of Nazi members inside the building creating rain due to condensation."

"That would be a bummer if I wanted to stay dry on a rainy day in Germania," said Jennxpenn.

"To be perfectly frank, Volkshalle is a grotesque building that proves that bigger isn't always better. Some of the most well-known dome structures in the world are the Pantheon, St. Peter's Basilica, the U.S. Capitol Building, Hagia Sophia, and Brunelleschi's Dome in Florence. All of them have elegant structures and an aesthetic beauty that complement the surrounding cityscape. The Volkshalle has a gluttonous and overinflated dome that lacks geometrical beauty and is unsubtle in its placement in Germania," said HurricaneAubrey. "And its purpose was to make the individual feel miniscule and insignificant compared to the power of the Nazi regime, with the monumental dome symbolizing Nazi subjugation over the entire world."

"So, we both agree that Volkshalle and all fascist architecture belongs in the trash can of history," said Jennxpenn.

"Yes," said a smiling HurricaneAubrey. "I wonder if fascism would have emerged at all if Germany won the Great War, meaning that we wouldn't be discussing its atrocious architecture at all."

"Keep in mind that fascism might have still emerged in Europe due to bitterness from losing the Great War. In the timeline of Pax Germania, fascism would most likely emerge in France," explained Cody. "Think about it. France in this timeline lost the Franco-Prussian War and the Great War. They would want to avenge their fallen brothers in both wars with a victory against the Germans. I imagine another conflict erupting between France and Germany later in the 20th century, though I'm doubting if France would be able to defeat an enlarged German Empire."

Jennxpenn and HurricaneAubrey were imaging what a fascist France would look like. France already had a dictatorship under Napoleon Bonaparte. It wasn't much of a stretch to imagine fascism taking hold in a France defeated in the Great War and required to pay war reparations to Germany. Would the Eiffel Tower be torn down and replaced with an overblown version of Paris' Pantheon building?

"Of course, this is simply one scenario. We'll never 100% know if Pax Germania would have happened with a conservative German Empire and a fascist France. But it's fun to theorize," said Cody.

Institute Explorer 04 was now driving towards Santa Monica. As Cody dozed off to sleep, Jennxpenn gazed upon the famous pier with its iconic Ferris wheel.

"It was here where I had a pleasant visit from George Zazz's Institute Army," said Jennxpenn in a sarcastic tone. "Seems strange to be riding in an Institute of Internet Studies vehicle considering what they have done to Los Angeles during the Great Schism of America."

HurricaneAubrey remembered the time she and the Nerd were in Los Angeles when George Zazz announced the beginning of mass killings throughout America after the death of his son Henry Zazz.

"There were plans for George Zazz to construct a massive mausoleum to his son nearby the Santa Monica Pier. Can you imagine walking along this pier and seeing a structure like Volkshalle?" said HurricaneAubrey.

"It would be an eyesore," said Jennxpenn.

"I was here when George Zazz declared to the world that he would engage in slaughtering any Americans who didn't fit his perfect world. Supposedly, it was for revenge against the death of his beloved son. However, I think he didn't love his son considering the tenuous relationship he had with him during the final days of Henry's life. He might have felt some sorrow, but I believe he quickly got over it and recalled his son as more of a failure. Indeed, the death of Henry provided an excuse for him to carry out massacres with a legitimate reason," explained HurricaneAubrey. "George Zazz did take more of a liking to Roxy Harmon, elevating her to be his adopted daughter. His most faithful servant and most likely successor."

"And now Roxy Harmon is in charge of German and Italian cities," said Jennxpenn. "Wonder why she would become an environmentalist? She doesn't strike me as a tree-hugger."

"I don't know," admitted HurricaneAubrey. "It's all speculation. We do know that Frank Murdoch was murdered by her."

"Why?" said Jennxpenn, not looking upset at Frank's demise.

"Once again, we don't have a reason right now," said HurricaneAubrey. "And that's not getting into why the Nostalgia Critic would join her. We are faced with a point of divergence where we can go into two directions: believe Roxy has changed for the better and leave her in peace or fight against Roxy who has hijacked the environmental movement for her own ulterior motives."

HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn pondered their next course of action. They remembered their conversation with Cody about the nature of alternative history. There were points of divergences made by people like the two agents that altered the timeline, and the results were unpredictable. For the Atlantropa timeline, it was the end of European civilization. In the timeline where Africa was never colonized by Europeans, the continent remained underdeveloped compared to the rest of the world. As for the Pax Germania timeline, it appeared to be a more peaceful world without the rise of fascism in Germany, who used this ideology to horrific effect. The two agents were going to alter history, and what would be the consequences of their decision.

"Roxy could create a beautiful new world with the Critic by her side," admitted Jennxpenn. "She might have been reformed from her old ways. I don't believe it, but the mainstream media is fawning over her."

"I don't believe that Roxy changed either. In my opinion, she is just using environmental fears to push her own agenda. She has no intention of creating paradise on earth," said HurricaneAubrey. "When I was in Los Angeles during the Great Schism of America, I saw firsthand how vicious she could be. You might have heard about how the Nerd and I rescued Strawburry17 and JoeyGraceffa from the Getty Center, but I didn't go into detail of what we saw before we reached them. There was blood all over the paintings and sculptures, and I saw the bodies of the Patricians and Plebeians piling up like a perverse commentary on human nature. I can still see and hear the child soldiers dying in the hallways of the museum as they shouted for the slaughter of all Plebeians and the glory of Roxy Harmon. There was nothing the Nerd and I could do as they delivered their last breath. To be honest, I really don't want to go into full detail of the Getty Center massacre."

"I understand," said Jennxpenn.

"As you already know, we were cordially invited by Administrator Gibson to take this grand tour of Los Angeles as a vacation away from our plans to liberate Germany and Italy from Roxy," said HurricaneAubrey. "I thought our analysis of the War of European Succession could wait. But here we are talking about it."

"The only way to put our minds to rest is to take the fight to Roxy and put an end to her dark intentions for Europe," said Jennxpenn. "How long it would take and at what lengths is of no concern. All that matters is bringing her down."

"And I will join you in that fight," said HurricaneAubrey.

A point of divergence has been made. HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn were joining forces to rebel against Roxy Harmon, the Nostalgia Critic, and the entire nation of Sylvania. This reconciliation between two former rivals was confirmed by a handshake. HurricaneAubrey got up from her seat and turned to face Jennxpenn, offering up her hand as an olive branch. Jennxpenn accepted.

"This is the beginning of a new relationship," said Jennxpenn. "What's our first course of action?"

The first test of the bond between HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn would occur when Institute Explorer 04 was struck with a heavy object.

"Woah!" shouted Jennxpenn and HurricaneAubrey.

"What was that?" said Cody as he woke up with a yawn.

HurricaneAubrey saw they were in the Beverly Hills neighborhood. Looking in the car's mirror, she saw a rhino running past several cars at top speeds.

"There's something you don't see every day," said Cody.

"Must have escaped from the zoo," said HurricaneAubrey. "Luckily, the car did protect us from being impaled."

"Um, HurricaneAubrey. I think we also need to look out for the sharp fangs and tusks coming our way," said Jennxpenn as she looked out at the back window.

There was a stampede of wild African animals that appeared to be the big five game animals: cape buffalo, elephant, leopard, lion, and rhinoceros.

"Let's get out of here!" shouted Cody as he reached for the door handle.

But the driver's door wouldn't open.

"I shouldn't have suggested that the cars needed to have a locking mechanism," said HurricaneAubrey. "It's a safety measure for keeping guests from wandering off and getting lost. Not so much when a horde of wild animals is charging at you."

"There's only one thing to do. Brace for impact," said Jennxpenn.

One rhino was enough for the Institute Explorer to handle. Multiple animals of the African savannah knocked the vehicle upside down and right side up several times, with the car becoming upside down in the end. HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn were unscratched despite the car's glass shattering everywhere. Cody wasn't so lucky.

"Cody!" shouted HurricaneAubrey.

With Institute Explorer 04's glass broken, HurricaneAubrey dragged Cody out of the vehicle with Jennxpenn following behind her. HurricaneAubrey placed her head along Cody's chest.

"I can still hear his heartbeat," said HurricaneAubrey. "Get the medical kit, Jennxpenn."

Jennxpenn headed back into Institute Explorer 04 for the medical kit. HurricaneAubrey heard Cody moaning with his eyes closed.

"Humans are driven to disagreement and conflict," said a barely conscious Cody.

"Just hang in there," said HurricaneAubrey as she saw Jennxpenn emerge from the car with the medical kit.

Watching from the top of the U.S. Bank Tower, the Nostalgia Critic was witnessing smoke rising from the streets of Los Angeles.

"Yes man. Man will sodomize your hamster if he could. Man also likes to spend most of his time destroying things because he is worse than the Devil if he was a pedophile," said the Critic.

"Have we released the African beasts?" questioned Roxy's voice on the Critic's mobile phone.

"The beasts have been released from the trucks," said the Critic.

"Good. Los Angeles brings back some fond memories, Critic," said Roxy. "Let's hope for another Cecil or Harambe. That will really show how evil man is."

"Anything to help our cause," said the Critic.

"Beautiful sight isn't it," said Roxy.

The Critic put on his binoculars to examine the mayhem down below. He then saw Internet Police agents HurricaneAubrey and Jennxpenn riding a jeep.

"We have trouble," said the Critic.

"What is it?" asked Roxy.

 **Please review this story to provide me some advice on improving it. What other internet personalities or memes should the Internet Police encounter?**


End file.
